


Night

by writtennotsung



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, completed work, slowburn, warnings for major character death and mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-24 23:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtennotsung/pseuds/writtennotsung
Summary: The world has ended. Humanity is on the brink of death. The apocalypse is real, has been for a long time now, and life will never be the same.In a world where everything familiar is dead and gone, just one person standing by your side can be the difference between sanity and chaos, and for Phil, Dan is that person. He’s loved his best friend since 2009, the last time things were normal.But how can love survive, when death is looming and one half doesn’t even realize it exists? The world is a dangerous place, and even with the help of their not-quite human companion Cat and a group of newfound friends, there are new, unfound struggles in store for the pair and a secret neither of them will see coming. The objective is simple: stay alive. Doing so, however, is easier said than done.





	1. morning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completed and will post three times a week on Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Special thanks to @lemonheadleaster for being here since the very beginning. This fic brought us together, and will always have a special place in my heart <3

**Phil**

The first thing I feel when I wake up is cold.

Cold, and an emptiness next to me. 

I blink, feeling slow and groggy as the last dregs of my dream fade from my memory, whatever I'd seen already being slowly forgotten. My heart is racing and I can't even remember what the dream was about anymore, my mind feeling like it's just surfaced from beneath deep water. 

It should be unsettling that something I can't even consider tangible is causing so much fear, but most fear exists that way. It's what we can't see in the dark that we're afraid of. It seems like every night is another nightmare and it's more wearying than frightening these days, more than anything waking up is a relief even if it's no more reassuring than the images that are nothing more than a dark weight now. While I've been asleep the temperature has dropped considerably, seeping into my skin and making my breath appear as visible puffs in the air.

My body redoubles in shivers, fully feeling the chill now that I'm conscious. The duvet I usually wind around myself is mysteriously gone, serving as some explanation for the chill which has obviously been here for a while because it's that deep-set cold, the one that settles into your bones and leaves you curled in on yourself. 

While this in itself is objectively unpleasant, it reminds me as I tilt my head blearily that an easy solution to this problem lies only a small reach away, available to me in the form of another body.

I squeeze my tired eyes shut and my fingers stretch out, seeking Dan's warmth, but my hands grasp nothing. My palm comes into contact with empty air, landing flat on the ground rather than a soft shoulder.

At first nothing registers nothing but confusion, but then it seems to click what's wrong.

_Dan._

I bolt awake. Dan. My still-sleepy mind panics, thinking I've somehow lost him, every nightmare I've suffered through somehow coming to life.

I push myself onto my elbows, reaching around desperately for my best friend. I scramble to sit up, tiredness gone.

In a normal world maybe absences wouldn't be such a strange thing, but for us it could be absolutely nothing or it could be devastating and there's no way to tell until it's too late. Where is he?

Something could have happened in the night. Something I missed, all because of my stupid human need to rest, to let my guard down and leave us both vulnerable. It would be good retribution for allowing myself to relax without considering him, my eyes shooting open as I sit up straight, gaze darting anxiously around the small, dim enclosure.

There's no obvious sign of anything amiss, but that only makes me more uneasy. I thought he'd fallen asleep next to me. What if it was the last time ever?

Worst-case scenarios enter my mind without permission and I'm imagining a world without him where he's gone- vanished from my life just as quickly and easily as everything else had gone, stolen away in the dark of night. The sun hasn't risen so in the inky grey-black I can't see anything beside me, where just last night he'd been curled just a small space away.

It's still too dim to make out much other than some glowing embers from last night's fire a few feet in front of me. My heart is racing for another reason much more real than a dream now, my eyes casting hopelessly around the shelter which is mostly empty. In a one-room enclosure, I can't just reassure myself that maybe he's elsewhere. Even if there were other rooms, he wouldn't leave me anyway.

I start to wonder if I'm totally alone. I'm about to get up and start calling his name when suddenly a shadow in the corner moves, letting out a long huff of a breath that almost makes me jump right out of my skin.

I gasp without really thinking, only just repressing a scream because impulsive sounds like that are what can get you killed these days. I back up a few inches before my eyes really settle and focus on the mass, adjusting to the light. It stirs at my outcry but doesn't react any further, giving my mind time to catch up to the situation and my fight or flight response to calm the hell down.

Almost immediately I relax, the tension in my shoulders ebbing away. He's here.

"Fuck." I breathe, laughing softly and shifting on my knees to see him better. I could deflate right into the freezing cold floor in relief but I just really, really want to make sure he's here even though I can see him. Before 2009, I never would have thought I'd second-guess my own eyes.

Now that I'm focusing I can discern the slope of his narrow shoulders from the mass of shadow near the wall, easily missed when it's so hard to see. As my heartbeat returns to a much calmer rate I can't help but smile despite all of the built-up fear and stress we've both experienced since this all began. Dan's actually asleep at this moment, it's a good thing my gasp wasn't any louder. 

I look up and see that it's still dark outside too, I can see the black silhouettes of trees and the dying light of stars against the early morning sky, scattered haphazardly and visible through cracks between the wooden slats overhead. 

This has become a relatively normal and dependable sight upon waking recently, a good sign that I'm finally adjusting to life in this shelter. It's little more than a collapsed barn in an abandoned farmer's field but that's why we chose it. Isolation equals safety. Sometimes it takes a while whenever there's a change of location because change means starting over again, but just the fact that I've been able to sleep at all is reassuring in itself. No matter what I'd told myself in the beginning, change gets easier when you're subjected to it enough times.

It can't be much later than five in the morning, it's far too dark and far too cold. Despite how long I've lived like this now, I still feel incredibly strange waking up before the sun, considering that back when life was mundane and normal Phil of the past never rose before eleven unless there was some sort of national emergency, like a Buffy box set marathon needing to happen.

It's hard to explain, but it's like looking back on a person who is both me and someone entirely different from who I am, like a character in a sickeningly realistic novel. As soon as I was out of high school things like productivity and waking up early sort of flew out the window, seeing how they were no longer necessary to Phil of Back Then. Because Back Then, I was the definition of the classic university student, the very epitome of what lazy mornings and free-spiritedness should embody. I was a whole other person back then. Now, productivity is this least of my worries. All the worries and deadlines, none of it even matters. I remember him, but whether he is even me is a question I'll never be sure of the answer to.

As I slowly blink the sleep out of my eyes I consider this, feeling so detached from him, from that Phil. It feels like a lifetime ago.

I wonder vaguely if past me of Back Then would be impressed by who I am and my ability to rise now, considering how much older I am and how waking up at the crack of dawn just seems to happen now. Best to always look on the bright side, to pretend that any of this was in any way a choice. Being older doesn't really equal being wiser, I'd be a lot better off if that were the case. 

I take a deep breath to calm myself, settling my gaze now on Dan. He's facing me right now and I hadn't even realized it through the tangle of dark sheets, his eyes are shut but he's very evidently still here, still safe. I think of us before any of this had happened and it makes a strange feeling flit through my chest, comparing it to now. Phil of the past worried about Dan too, but for totally different reasons. Same Dan and same Phil, same feelings but different fears. Past and present, fear of death versus fear of dying. The distinction between Back Then and Now.

I know all too well how painful it can be to care so much about one person, to the point where you feel like your heart might swell and let it all spill over with how much you do. _That_ feeling hasn't left. As my heart has so eloquently reminded me that feeling never leaves, just sits in a knot in your chest to be hidden away with no way to express it, not even when just existing is a matter of life or death and it's not even shocking anymore. I don't know why dying seems preferable to feeling things like this. It's just how it is.

He's asleep right now, and that in itself is a relief considering all the hundreds of nights where I've woken prematurely in whatever shelter we've found for the night, roused from some nightmare, only to see him already alert, sat straight up with his eyes glowing in the makeshift firelight. 

If he knew I could see him like this all curled up and soft, he'd probably kill me. Dan. He thinks he has me fooled, scoffing at my concerns for his wellbeing in consciousness as though he isn't the boy who means the world to me, as closed off emotionally as I am an open book. He copes by acting like he feels nothing at all, angry at the world and cold like he's been this way his whole life. But I've known Dan for far too long, and I know better than that.

By the time I'm awake most mornings he's usually already calmed down from whatever thoughts have terrorized him, acting all the while like they haven't. It's like he wishes he could convince me that he _doesn't _have nightmares, as if he can stop me from worrying just by denying he feels at all.

He can't help it. My eyebrows crease as I think about my own nightmares and how his are far worse. It's an unspoken, understood truth between both of us. I know they're awful, I know they're why he hasn't slept a night through in months and it hurts beyond belief because unlike the physical things, there's nothing I can do to stop the dreams from coming. He looks so innocent in sleep, it's deceptive because I know Dan is far too complex, far too damaged for that.

There's a lot I can do for him, but I can't save a him from his own mind. That's one thing he has to face alone, and life isn't kind enough to make it easy. He's too proud to tell me what happens in the dreams but considering how terrible mine have been, how they've only gotten worse as fear keeps growing and death looms down around us I can scarcely imagine how much worse his are.

Ever since this whole ordeal of Now began, the _End of The World_ as I have come to call it for lack of a less cliché name, it's been acknowledged but not spoken that while none of us had an easy time of it, the beginning of it for him was far more awful than most people's, and it's become an unspoken rule that we don't recall it, try to forget it even. Really, that's what everyone is trying to do these days. Forget. As the weeks become months that turn into years, what else can you do?

He looks so content right now. In sleep, his tense features are completely relaxed, the lines and creases soft and the dark circles less visible. His mouth is open slightly and he's breathing softly, suggesting that for the first time in ages, this dream must not be so bad. In sleep, he's rolled himself into the corner of the room, to the far end of the folded tarp we've been using as a makeshift mattress with both my blanket and his tightly wrapped around him, loosely gripped by his hands.

It at least accounts for my current state. Only his head pokes out, curls spilling out across his forehead in loose ringlets. Now that he has no access to a straightener, his natural curls are the constant norm, one small miracle in this hellscape.

I now know why I woke up so cold, but I can't say I mind. This calm, blissful appearance on him is like a massive weight lifting off my mind and my heart. He looks so much older than the boy of nineteen that he is, an uncomfortable reminder that he's been through so much.

Maybe it's our age difference, maybe it's how close we've been for so long, but I feel immensely protective of him even though he's proven many times over just in our day-to-day lives that he's tough enough for twenty Phils. I want to shake him awake and hold him close to me until the lines vanish and the dark circles fade away, see the smile that is now such a rarity, the one that makes his eyes crinkle in a different way and the dimple in his cheek so prominent that more than once I've reached out and poked it. I want to make him smile right now.

But I don't, of course.

I'd like to see the day where I actually manage to do anything when it comes to him. He'd probably shove me off anyway even though deep down he loves hugs, or at least he used to. Some of the best moments are the ones where he relents enough to allow me to hold him, those tired, gentle nights where we're half-asleep and the edges are softer than usual. Sometimes I'm not even sure what the real him is anymore, but I live for the moments where his head finds my chest even if only for a moment.

I allow myself to sigh deeply, quietly. He means so much to me. More than he really knows probably, more than I could ever explain to him. I shuffle to the left, closer to him until my knees are brushing his side, just assuring myself he's here too. I don't know what I'd do if I woke up without him.

In his unconscious state he seems to feel the warmth that I offer because his body turns toward me, pressing himself into my side while still sleeping on, oblivious. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I cautiously stretch out my hand, gently brushing the soft brown curls off of his forehead.

I run my fingers through them to make a clumsy quiff, a gesture I wouldn't dare to attempt if he were awake. I don't even know how he'd react to the fondness that must be blatantly spreading across my features, especially when I'm not exactly free in displaying this expression when he can see it. I blush a little, embarrassed at the prospect. It doesn't matter. He can't see it, so it hardly matters. His hair stays flopped over and I let it, hearing his breath go deep for a moment before evening out again. I wish I could see him better.

I wonder what he's dreaming about. When the nightmares first began I used to cautiously ask him if he wanted to talk about it, wishing I could somehow erase them so that he wouldn't wake up every night screaming and shaking until he got a grip on his surroundings. Not that this reality is ever something to write home about, I've had the rare night where I've dreamt that everything was normal and nearly collapsed when waking up to find that this is what's real.

More than once I've turned to see him wiping away tears so determinedly and viciously that I would pretend not to see them to spare his discomfort, acting like my heart hadn't just shattered. He'd just brushed me off all nonchalantly when I'd finally asked him, his voice so full of characteristic indifference you'd have thought he believed it too.

_Trust me, Phil. _He'd said. _You're better off not thinking about it. I'm fine._

I'm fine.

It's sad to think about, how vastly different our two ideals of _fine_ must be. He knows as well as I do that he isn't, we both started in the same place. We were there together when everything went downhill, escaped our old lives when they came crashing to an end. There's no real secrets between us, we were right there in the heart of it, tainted by the blood and the flames when the world ended. I think that's why it can sometimes be so frustrating to me when he won't tell me. The world has ended, and he still won't trust even me with everything.

It feels so stupid to say that the world has _ended_, seeing how we're still living on it. The earth still exists, there's still plants and drinkable water and a normal climate which is unfortunate, I would have preferred an apocalypse with warmer weather to the seasonal changes that are still happening. It's getting onto late summer now and the new creeping chill is hard to ignore, I've no idea what we'll do once autumn comes, then winter.

There's still cities, seasons and people in small populations so yes, the world is still here. As for the state of it though, there's really no other way to describe it but the truth.

The zombie apocalypse, something massively exploited with varying levels of creativity in all sorts of video games, books or media is real. I don't know the exact date it started, I don't really care, honestly. Knowing won't make it any better, knowing won't bring food or make Dan happy.

In my mind, I always pictured zombies as the way they appeared on-screen; glazed-eyed, slow-moving corpses, vaguely human but also monstrous, hell-bent on feasting on the flesh of the living. The difference is imagining it versus seeing it for yourself in real life.

What the screens cannot express is how awful they smell, unsettlingly recognizable and now all-too common in this world. How _fast _some of them are; just like living humans, how they have different levels of skill and ability and how gets so much more complicated than just sinking an axe into its brain when it lunges forward relentlessly.

In appearance, it's almost laughable how accurate we were. We actually used to get _enjoyment_ out of imagining alternate realities where such a horror existed. And look at us now. Reality is waking up with these memories and the knowledge that it's not just a fun story or something that closes when the book does. It's trauma in the mind patterns of everyone left alive.

More than anything, I wish none of this was real. I want to wake up one morning and find myself huddled on the bed of my uni dorm, warm and safe and bored out my mind, blissful to what life is without an apocalypse situation. What would I do, if I could have it all back?

It's a question I like to torture myself with in quiet moments like this, when the world is asleep and I have nothing more to do. Homework would be so preferable to this fight to survive.

All the things that seemed like such a huge deal at the time seem so meaningless now. I'd eat all the popcorn I could find, probably. Go outside more and answer all those texts from my mom. I'd tell Dan how I really felt, because life is too short and it would be so easy in the the land of the happy and the privileged teenager. Not like it is now, when love seems like something so mundane and irrelevant when the need to live is so dominant.

It's all so hard but in some ways, it's easier than it's ever been because now, all we have is each other. I know without a doubt that despite his more reserved behaviour I'm incredibly important to him too, he's still my best friend and he's promised hundreds of times over that that will never change. Maybe for now, that's all I need. It's been so long since things changed for me, from something felt to something more. I'm an expert by now at hiding my heart.

I'll keep this particular part of me quiet for as long as it needs to be because even in this hell dimension of a world, there is so much to be grateful for. In a way, this moment of quiet is a blessing beyond anything I could've hoped for. It's calming to see him still and slack in this way, swathed in blankets with my hand close to his hair. I don't even know what it is that I feel half the time, it's like a little weight on my chest that wont go away and it grows when he's looking at me, or talking to me. It's Dan.

It's an important thing for both of us, because we depend on each other no matter how difficult we make it to express it to one another. Just the way he's naturally shifted near me is indicator enough that I'm doing something right, and I try to push away that fearful feeling that had hit me so unexpectedly earlier. Maybe when he wakes up I can tell him about it and we can both laugh about it later. It's better than the alternative.

I'm snapped from my thoughts when Dan suddenly lets out a string of incoherent mumbling, shaking me out of my reverie.

I retract my hand from his hair, afraid he'll wake up and catch me at it. It's best for now that he doesn't know, I can handle pulling him into a squirmy hug when he's awake, anyway.

I'm happy with even a fraction of his affection, it's always been enough for me. I grin stupidly thinking about doing it, imagining him pretending he's annoyed but secretly loving it, just not wanting to look vulnerable in front of anybody, not even me.

I mentally remind myself that this is the apocalypse, that there's food to be found and I need a plan ready for how today will go, but even so I continue to stare a little longer at the quiff my fingers left behind in his hair, almost wanting him to sleep contentedly for hours longer even if it means not being able to talk to him because I haven't seen him this content in weeks.

I sit still and quiet, listening to his soft breaths and taking warmth from where he's leant against my side, relishing in the peaceful atmosphere and letting all thoughts of zombies and nightmares ebb away as I settle back against the rough concrete wall and cease to think about much at all.

I stay like that for a while. The sun is finally beginning to peek over the treetops by the time I even realize I've just been sitting staring at his shoulders rising and falling. I don't even feel that cold or afraid anymore.

I'm still sitting quietly next to Dan, my eyes on his face as I wonder just how long I'll be able to get away with it. He never sleeps long once the sun is up, so it's likely that this comfortable state will only last about half an hour longer before the light hits his face and he stirs awake, and the next day of our life begins. He's a light sleeper as it is.

I'm about to lean into his side when all of a sudden he shudders, his eyebrows creasing and his lips turning down in a frown.

I start at this, at how unhappy he suddenly looks. His fist clenches the blanket wrapped around him tightly and my heart sinks when he makes a small sound, something between fear and pain. Oh no.

Whatever peaceful dream state has graced him for the past few hours, it's clearly morphed back to the more common nightmare ground. It hurts to see his form go tense, to know this moment is familiar. The lines and creases are back, the dark circles enhancing his blatant discomfort and I know what's coming next. My stomach sinks at the sight, hand hovering uncertainly as I try to decide what to do.

He's beginning to shake and groan weakly, looking suddenly small and vulnerable, the sort of thing he would hate to be. Something snaps in me at the distress and I can't stop myself. It's not about dignity or my nervousness. This is Dan, and Dan is in pain.

I lurch forward and take hold of one of his cold hands, squeezing gently and pulling it close to my chest. With my other hand I lean forward and gently push my fingers into his hair, starting at his forehead and brushing gently back, my heart hammering in my chest as I hope to god that he doesn't wake up and see what I'm doing. I just want to help him, to calm his heart without waking him up.

"It's okay, hey?" I murmur, feeling him tense as I continue the motions. "It's not real, Dan. It's just a nightmare."

He can't hear me, I know that. I'm mostly just talking to ease the both of us, to reassure that anxious part of me that feels like I'm doing nothing. I brush through his hair and keep my eyes on his face, relaxing as his body does and pulling my hand back. He goes still then, groaning softly before sinking back against my side. I consider moving away then as he settles, not sure how to explain this reaction.

I've never previously attempted to comfort him like this while he was thrashing because I knew he wouldn't want it. I'm half expecting him to wake just for the sheer monumental fact that I'm holding his hand but he only sighs, his features going slack again.

Unbelievable.

His limp hand lowers to settle into my lap and I feel his fingers close around mine, covering them. I hold in my breath, not daring to make a sound, but he doesn't wake up. My heart is beating in my ears and my face feels warm enough to rival the air.

I've just begun to relax, pushing a strand of black hair out of my own face and keeping hold of his hand with my unoccupied one when I hear a chuckle from behind, nearly jumping out of my skin for the second time this morning.

I let out a tiny shriek and drop Dan's hand, causing him to huff irritably at the sudden change. _This _elicits a less-subtle burst of laughter, forcing me to realize I've condemned myself entirely.

I feel a hot blush flood my cheeks and I drop my hands over my face in shame, delaying the inevitable but not for long. I sigh, lifting my eyes to glance at the intruder even though I'm pretty sure I know who it is already.

My suspicions are confirmed as I take in the pale, bluish skin and short, dark hair, the wide silver eyes and the knowing smirk that makes me flop against the wall in defeat. Just my luck that I've happened to befriend what is probably the only sentient zombie on the planet. Only she could have approached so quietly.

"Cat," I breathe, trying to gloss over the embarrassing exchange we'd just had. "What are you even doing back yet? I thought you were going out until sunrise."

She grins at me, and I know this is not about to go the way I'd been subtly hinting I wanted it to.

She steps into the room, squinting in the dimness and lowering her voice the closer she gets.

"I did get food, you dork." She teases, speaking in a carrying whisper. "There were practically no zombies in the village down there so I didn't even have to work too hard to find it. Besides-"

She raises an eyebrow for emphasis and I shake my head, a silent plea to just get it over with.

_"_-Technically, the sun _is _up." She adds, smirking. "It's light enough that even my crappy eyes can see you. You're hopeless, you know that?"

I roll my eyes at the jab but against my wishes a smile still spreads across my face, bemusement winning over my irritation at my friend's teasing. We both look to Dan wrapped in both duvets and I know she feels fond too, even if I can't pretend it's in the same way.

"What if he wakes up and sees you staring at him like that?" She quips. "Honestly, are you even trying anymore?"

The smile drops from my face instantly.

"He was having another one of his nightmares!" I argue defensively, my cheeks flushing. "He slept so well tonight, you should have seen it! He actually looked content all morning, I couldn't let him slip back into that, he can't see or feel me doing it anyway, I had to do some-"

I stop short, seeing the doubtful expression on her face.

"I'm not trying to stop you, you know." She says gently.

Cat is the only other person besides me who knows about how I feel towards Dan. This is the apocalypse mind you, so the list of people still alive that I know is, granted, very short, so maybe that isn't as impressive as it sounds. But while she's annoying as hell sometimes, having a half-zombie friend, even one who knows your deepest secret, is very helpful in this life.

We ran into Cat back in the early uncertain days. It was gray and cloudy and I remember I was so, so scared, thinking I only had a matter of days to live because I was nothing more than a lanky nerd whose best friend was a lanky nerd and I thought it was only a matter of time before Dan and I were overwhelmed by monsters.

We were hiding in an old horse barn, sitting up in the hayloft because we were too scared to be on the ground floor, vulnerable to anything that wandered in. We'd pulled up the ladder and we'd found an axe and a crowbar, the axe in my hands as I sat silently next to him, breathing a sigh of relief at finally having some illusion of safety.

At least until we heard a shuffling sound and a zombie lurched up out of the hay about fifteen feet behind us, causing us both to scream and me to to slam the ax right into its torso, where it stuck comically. The zombie was unaffected, the only way to kill one being to either destroy its head or cut it in half. I thought we were done for, waiting for it to lurch forward and kill us, seeing how close it was.

But unlike every other zombie we'd encountered, this one just stood still, them lowered its head, staring at where my ax had hit it with too much intelligence in the gaze, almost as if we'd offended it. It slowly reached down and pulled the axe out if its side, holding it in a strange, contemplative way, before looking up at us, taking in Dan with his crowbar and me behind him as he struggled to cover us both.

Our eyes met, and out of nowhere it opened its mouth, and a perfectly discernable human girl's voice said "dude, rude?"

Then it walked over, handing the axe back to a dumbstruck me and frowning irritably, as if she hadn't just been struck with a freaking axe. She'd stared at me as if I'd done something completely irrational.

"For god's sake, say something! I'm not gonna eat your brain or anything."

Silence. I was terrified. She didn't seem to get that though, or maybe she was messing with us.

"I'm not into that." She added casually, running a hand through her hair awkwardly, something seriously out of place looking on a zombie. Relief crept into me even though warning bells were blaring in my brain and Dan was gripping my arm uncertainly, not sure how to take in this fluke of reality.

"You-" Dan had choked, deciding to speak up, "you're a zombie."

"Yes sir." She saluted him mockingly.

"How are you not trying to eat our brains right now?" I cringed, almost expecting the mention of brains to suddenly transform her into the flesh-eating beast her body resembled, like a trigger.

But she didn't, just laughed and took us in, not even looking offended at being told she looked like a zombie, which I would hardly consider a compliment. The more I looked at her the more it was clear she wasn't rotting away like most monsters we'd seen, it was more like her skin had been drained of warmth and her eyes had gone a weird shade of pale grey, almost silver.

She'd gone on to explain to us how she'd been bitten back nearly a year ago and managed to get away, but then had felt horrifically sick and fallen unconscious only minutes later. When she'd woken up, she was a fully transformed zombie, but her thinking was still clear and the only differences were that her eyesight was now terrible, her hunger gone, and most importantly, she couldn't feel pain. This kind of thing was something we'd never heard of before.

"What makes me think we can trust you?" I'd spoken up, inwardly cursing at the fear that bled through my words.

"And what are we supposed to do with you now?" Dan added, sounding so strong and confident, making me wonder which one was really four years older than the other.

She had just laughed, saying not much at all, other than "trust me, you can."

Presently, Cat grins at me, knowing as well is I did that while I'm telling the truth, there's really no excuse I can make for what she's just witnessed. She's seen me, caught me in the act, and she probably won't stop pestering me till I fess up. I'm not going to give her the satisfaction though, two can play at this game.

"Shut up" I whine, slumping against the wall dramatically. "He could wake up any minute now!"

"I'm aware of that," she replies, wandering over to the fire to poke at the coals. "I'm not yelling, you idiot. Your secret's safe with me."

"Yeah, but..." I trail off, glancing at his gentle features as if he can hear me. "You know."

Her expression softens, and suddenly I realize she isn't teasing me anymore. Her words are soft and careful, almost tentative, catching me off guard.

"Phil, why don't you tell him?" She whispers, gazing at his relaxed expression while some sunlight slants over his cheek.

My heart skips.

"What?"

"What's holding you back?" She challenges. "This is the apocalypse, god knows there's nothing wrong with a little more love in the world."

I groan, not wanting her to realize how many times I've come so close to doing just that, how hard this is for me. She has to know, we've had this conversation before and I always say the same thing. It's just that, the notion that everything and nothing is in the way.

I clear my throat, choosing my words carefully.

"I just don't want to lose him."

"You won't."

It's a loaded exchange for so few words. Dan had promised me once that he'd never leave me, _no matter what._ I don't know if he knows exactly what he's promising.

"You should tell him one day." She repeats. "You don't know what-"

"I can't. I will one day- I will!" I add defensively upon seeing the look on her face. "I just don't think I can do it yet, I don't even know if I really love him like that or if it's-"

I stop as sunlight suddenly floods the room, the concrete walls lighting up with a warm glow, every crack visible. I can see Dan clearly now in his blanket pile, I can see every detail of Cat's pale complexion. Morning.

"Never mind. We'll talk about it later." Cat says hurriedly, and I nod, saved the need to say anything at all.

As the sunlight continues to stream in, Dan begins to stir, just as I'd predicted he would.

"I will though, " I add quietly, speaking as much to myself as to her. "I promise."

She doesn't say anything, just nods slowly and then wanders over to poke Dan in the side, causing him to shout out in confusion, making me smile warmly at his protest to wake up.

As far as I know, we still have lots of time left. I can take as long as I like.


	2. london's burning

_You see the part you played_  
_All the silhouettes you've made_  
_Flee the light of day._  
_-_Andrew Belle, _Dark Matter_

**Phil**

The building we live in at the moment is little more than a concrete block with a weather-worn and damp dirt floor, practically a scrap pile more than anything.

It was likely a foundation for a barn at some point, but after the first wave of the apocalypse there was likely nobody left to care for it and the wood at its base must have rotted and collapsed. Now, it's the perfect place for a couple of wanderers like us to bunk down in for a while. Situated at the top of a hill and surrounded on one side by tall pines, it's sunken into the ground and walled off on all sides, the splinters of wood and large timber poles creating a makeshift wall and creating perfect concealment. It was a pain in the ass to climb into, but difficult entry is a good thing. Zombies shouldn't be able to get in easily. Not only that, but an entire valley spreads out below our vantage point. We can see the woods to the left and the ghost town to the right, the one where Cat had gone into while Dan and I were asleep to grab some food. If anything- be it people or monsters tries to approach, we'll see them, and that makes me feel about as safe as you can get in an instance like this.

It's been so long since we've found somewhere to stay for longer than a day. Part of survival requires you being constantly on the move, finding a new place to access resources and staying safely out of the way of zombie herds.

There are so many zombie herds_. _I try not to think about it, but it goes without saying that most of the world's population is probably dead, or undead now. Really, given just how many people there are in England alone, it's amazing that we haven't run into more. You don't really think about the just how many people exist in your life, from the significant ones to those people that are little more than faces passing in a store or on the train, not until something happens and potentially all of them, every single last one of them could be dead. Statistically, it's probably about ninety percent of the population. That means friends, strangers, family.

My eyebrows crease as an unwanted thought enters my mind, spurred on by this consideration:

_I haven't seen my family in so long. _

My family.

I know what's probably become of them. Come to terms with it, even. In the early days, it drove me near mad trying not to cave in to my grief, but it tore at me with vicious teeth, knowing what their fate most likely was. My mum, my dad, my brother, Martyn. The day I first realized I was in any danger, I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. I was at my apartment, about an hour and a half from where they lived and Dan was staying over, it was only the third time he'd ever visited my London apartment. I remember the internet dropped, and we didn't even realize what a serious thing had just happened. Cell service dropped not soon after, but I wasn't even thinking about calling my parents anyway. We had no idea we'd never see either of our parents again. We had no idea of much at all.

_Don't think about it. _I remind myself, mentally prodding to think of something else, anything else. My eyes scan the shelter, settling on the center of the room where Cat's sitting cross-legged by the fire, her back to me as she tells some enthusiastic story to Dan, something about the zombie she saw in town that looked like him, and how it scared the shit out of her before she realized it was way too short. I smile despite the cloud of gloom I've trapped myself in because Dan's looking genuinely interested, a soft expression on his face as he tucks a curly strand out of his eyes, probably wondering internally if he genuinely looks so bad these days that Cat would have compared him to a zombie and seen the resemblance.

He's arranging the meager amounts of food Cat managed to find so that we can carry it later, a few packets of crisps and some dry cereal, which has probably long since expired. Not that it really matters. Most man-made food that we find nowadays is, considering it all hit store shelves before the apocalypse, nearly a year and a half ago.

I watch him carefully arranging everything, slotting the precious items into our one battered backpack. Hardly the most interesting thing he could be doing, really, but I'm content just sitting like this and watching him. I don't need much of anything when he's around.

It's weird that he's my go-to when I need to be distracted, I really shouldn't dwell on it too much because then my mind will shift into overdrive an I'll be overanalyzing it, questioning whether my feelings are reasonable and if they really are what I think they are. In a dying world I should be focusing on keeping us both alive, but there's a small part of me that didn't die when my old life did, the part that wans to stare at his hands or his soft skin and wonder what it all means in the end. Trapped in my mind, I can feel what I feel.

He raises his eyes to me briefly, making eye contact, and I drop mine quickly to where my hands are resting in my lap, embarrassed to be indirectly caught staring. He knows I'm weird, but I don't need to be an idiot about it. 

Not one of the three of us have ever gotten any real closure when it comes to our old lives. You can think about it over and over in your head, let realistic scenarios enter your mind, but who does that help? Reality is Dan, Cat and I, anyone else who may or may not be out there is something tucked away into the distant past.

I can feel Dan's eyes on me so I turn and raise my eyes to a patch of sunlight slanting in between some beams of wood up above. I wonder if he ever thinks about it, Dan Howell who never reveals what he's really thinking at all. Or Cat for that matter, the one who told us she had parents before everything started and little more. Her normal days ended when she was bitten. For Dan and I, we saw the world end together.

It all started with Dan's frightened words, spoken in my flat on what we thought was an ordinary night.

_"We need to get out of London."_

_Dan's voice is worried, his eyes wide as we both look down from my fifth-floor balcony at the carnage a few streets over. All around me I can see my neighbours peering out from their own balconies, about as able to believe what they're seeing as I am. _

_I can hear voices, some of them grumpy and some of them terrified. I_ _s this some kind of crazy protest? Why are there so many people in the streets, attacking each other so viciously? Why are there so many screams? _

_Buildings are on fire, the police are nowhere to be seen. Nobody is stopping it, it's like something out of a terrible movie. No announcement, no warning. Our phones don't work, it's like it's come from nowhere at all._

_Down on the street, I see several people in all directions, staggering around as if they're drunk or disoriented. Occasionally one violently leaps forward, knocking other ones down. People are going building to building, trying doors to get in or smashing windows if they can't, and from this distance I can't tell who is dangerous and who is desperate o get away._

_And I know then that Dan is right, that we have to leave now, before whatever it is that's happening there reaches us over here. I grab his hand, something that in a calmer time might have felt wrong or at least sent my heart into uncontrollable fluttery beats, but I'm feeling nothing of that sort right now. Something tells me that I needed to keep him close to me, that we can't afford to be separated._

_Only minutes later we make our way out of my apartment, each carrying a backpack stuffed with a few necessities; toothbrushes, blankets, our cell phones, a few outfits and some canned food and bottled water. We didn't want to waste time packing and we didn't know how long we'd be gone, so we went for substantial but not over-packed. For all we knew it was just an explosion of hate crime or something and we'd be able to return home the following night, once the dust settles and the cops handle it. We push out the door, not even bothering to lock it. I hold tight to him as we round the corner onto the main hallway landing, opting to take the stairs because it's closer to the door that leads to my building's underground parking, my not-often used car sitting waiting in its space._

_I'm grateful that I chose to pay the rental fee for the damn space, even though my driving skills are questionable and I usually take the taxi. Maybe we'll be back home by tonight when this all calms down, but right now I don't even feel safe in my own house. _

_We scramble into the car and buckle ourselves in, and I've only just turned the ignition when suddenly all the lights in the entire underground lot go out, emergency lights beginning to glow some distance away. _ _Dan tenses up next to me, and I feel the very smallest bit of anxiety begin to creep in as I start to feel that something is definitely off. _

_"_ _What_ _ the fuck?" _ _Dan breathes, sounding as nervous as I feel. _ _It sets every nerve in my mind alive, the calm I've been forcing disintegrating._ _ We definitely need to get out, and now._

_I haven't driven in a while and my exit out of the space is somewhat clumsy as I press the gas way to hard, sending us lurching forward. Dan doesn't complain, just clutches tightly to the seat and looking like he's trying really hard not to be scared. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it isn't._

_I navigate my way through the carpark, seeing only a few other people with the same idea as me, choosing to exit the building by car and get a safe distance away from whatever this is. I follow their lead, trusting that they know where to go, even in the dark. _

_I breathe a sigh of relief upon seeing light as we reach the mouth of the parking lot. The car in front of me is going way too slow, and I will him to move with more urgency, already feeling like we've lingered way too long. _

_He does move eventually, turning right towards the road leading to the commercial area by our borough, definitely not where I want to go. There will be too many people there, there always is on a normal day anyway and this is definitely not a normal day. _

_"I don't think I'll be driving the speed limit." I blurt because talking is the only thing keeping me calm._

_Dan turns to me and looks back at the mess on the road, desperately trying to understand something that neither of us can make sense of._

_"Fuck the speed limit." He snaps._

_I swing the car to the left, driving a little more over the limit than is probably legal because I'm definitely nervous now, being on ground level with the nearby threat. Heads turn as I pass by but no one follows, I'm going too fast for anyone on foot._

_I drive without real direction, passing shops and parks and me and Dan's favourite Starbucks, the one with the red sofa. I pass auto shops and restaurants, pass people walking on the pavement who seem oblivious to what's going on, though I know they will notice soon. I have only one objective right now: leave the city._

_It's eerie, how dark the it is. All of London seems to have lost electricity, shops and homes alike completely black-windowed, the late evening sun the only light source in the darkening purple sky. Not even a streetlamp is lit, providing the most imaginably ominous vibe, sending a shudder down my spine._

_We've exited the borough now and are just reaching the highway when Dan suddenly gasps, pointing back in the direction we had come from. _

_"Phil." _

_Apprehension flood my nerves, the glow filling the car interior with colour before I even tilt my head to look back in my rear view mirror, wondering what he saw and yet not sure I wanted to know. My eyes widen as I take it in, not completely convinced that this could be real. A massive fire has risen from seemingly nowhere many blocks back, sending plumes of great, black smoke into the sky and encompassing what looks like several city blocks. _

_It's spreading, setting the horizon alight with auburn and ash in the most haunting, beautiful way._

_Surreal. Terrifying._

_"What would have happened if we'd stayed behind?" Dan wonders aloud, sounding terrified. I can only shake my head as I look ahead, my heart dropping as I see the pileup of cars all queuing to leave the city, a desperate traffic jam. Some people might have no idea what's going on, but clearly lots of people do. _

_"Oh god," I __gasp__, thinking rapidly about what to do. We can't sit here and wait like this. The city's on fire, __people are _dying_ and I'm in a crappy red car with my eighteen year old best friend, with __no__ method of protection for either of us. There's no time to come up with anything else, with only a limited knowledge of the area that I've only just moved to less than a year ago I only know one other way out from here. _

_I look over to Dan, his expression clearly telling me we need to think fast. My heart is thudding wildly, I've never felt so small and vulnerable as I do right now. I'm responsible for our safety, both our lives, and I just don't know what to do._ _ What do you do in this situation?_

_"We'll have to take the back exit out if we want to get out of here now. It's probably not safe to stay like this," I tell him, picturing the route desperately in my mind." It means we have to go back in the city, but not for too long." _

_How that sentence manages to leave my mouth I don't even know. I can barely think without panic blurring it all._

_There's no other way from here, all the major roadways will be blocked with people fleeing, this is the quickest backroad way that will streamline us out into the outskirts and then the countryside, out of harm's way so we can formulate a plan. It's not too deep into London either, we'll be well out of harm's way since the threat seems located in the more central sector, where my apartment is possibly still standing, unless it was subjected to those horrible, massive flames. _

_I shake my head, already turning around and taking in the small line that has formed behind me, other people heading for what seems like the easiest, but horribly slow escape. _ _I wonder if all of London is trying to escape at once. It certainly feels like it. I'd once read that London's population is around ten million, but because of tourists the volume of people is even higher. How many people are trying to squeeze into these streets?_

_Dan's expression shifts to one of deep concentration, and he stares at me for an impossibly long moment, his _ _dark_ _ eyes showing how much fear and uncertainty he's experiencing in the span of a moment. _

_"If you're sure about that Phil_ _." _ _he says _ _cautiously _ _after a tense pause_ _. "You_ _ should probably drive fast, and get out of here as soon as you can. I don't know if we should go back in there." _

_He's right of course, it might be stupid, risking the danger when there's a road right here, but it won't do us any good if the trouble spreads and we're still stuck on that highway, wedged immovably between dozens of cars._ _ He's scared, I'm scared. We just need to go._

_I make a split-second decision, swerving all the way around and surging forward, plunging us both back into the ominously darkened streets, back the way we came. _

_"I think we need to risk it," I murmur, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white, whiter than my already pale skin, feeling unsettled by the lack of anyone on the roads or the pavement now. _

_He accepts this without question, openly showing his trust in me without uttering another word, which I appreciate more than he could ever know. Too on edge to even speak, we spend the next couple ten-minute periods driving in complete silence, the roads still mostly suspiciously empty save for a few fast-driving cars here and there, all highway-bound and keeping well clear of us. _

_Miles away, the fire still glows threateningly, and I abandon all hope of ever returning to my apartment again. It hasn't really hit me yet, the seriousness of how I've lost my home, right now I just feel dull, numb, too shocked to comprehend exactly what's going on. I just mutely move forward, following the route I remember taking with my parents back when we visited my grandma's old house on the outskirts of town._

_I drive through brick neighbourhoods and dingy side streets, the areas getting more and more dumpy the further from the city's heart I get. The lower quality of the surroundings serves as a physical embodiment of the sudden shift in atmosphere that I feel, and I wonder then if maybe it's only me that feels it. _

_But I look over at Dan as he observes the road ahead and I see the way he's tensely positioned himself, poised nervously for something to happen. He feels it too._   
_The roads is unevenly paved and bordering on rural, only a few narrow apartments lining either side of the street. I see a handful people sparsely standing amongst the gaps between them, and several more in the corresponding alleyways. I don't want to focus too hard on them, I just really, really want to get out of here, and it's somehow more unnerving to see people out on the street then not out on them somehow. _

_I flick on my high beams now that it's almost completely dark now, and feel Dan twitch beside me. He lets out a small squeak of a sound, catching me off-guard. Now that I can see the people better, it's almost a little creepy, like they're all watching me._

_"Phil.." Dan whispers, his voice edging on fear, "look at those people."_

_I don't want to look at the people, they're freaking me out enough as it is, hanging out on the streets at night like they are. But there's a group that I'm coming up on, up ahead, slightly blocking the right side of the road as they shuffle forward. _

_That's weird enough, and I slow down and try to edge around them, not wanting to hit anyone. But then I see their faces, and suddenly I'm stepping on the gas, swerving around them so fast I almost hit one, because now I'm definitely panicking and I'm desperate to make it to somewhere isolated in the countryside, far, far from here. I don't need Dan's fearful shout to hit home about what's been making us feel off, because even though it's unreal, something crazy is happening and it's slowly creeping in, a terrible, awful possibility, a sudden realization._

_Because the faces I see, as insane as it sounds, they're not..._ _human. _

_Their skin is pale and sickly coloured, their faces gaunt with wide, glazed eyes, milky white as though they've gone blind, even though they all definitely focused on my car as I approached them. Veins are incredibly prominent on several areas on their bodies and their clothes hang off them in tatters, holes ripped in them and many stained with old blood from open wounds in all sorts of places, as if they've been attacked multiple times, maybe even by each other. _

_It's the sort of thing you only see in movies, or in nightmares as a really young kid, the kind of thing that you always dismissed as creepy of course, but _never_, never real__. You laughed to yourself, turned off the tv, then spent the next few nights sleeping with the hallway lights off until your mind reminded you it's fake__. __Here, they're__ dirty and angry looking, lunging forward in a hostile threatening way and releasing bone-chilling, inhuman roars as we blow by them, and never have I ever been more afraid in my whole life. _

_There's only one word to describe what we've just seen, the chaos in London, the desperate attempts of people to get out and the lack of life or light on the streets all shifting into perspective as it hits me what impossible thing is happening. _

_Zombies. Those were without a doubt, real live, murderous, fully transformed zombies. _

_My breaths are coming in way too fast and I scream loudly as I swerve around more, they're virtually everywhere now, their eyes gleaming out from the cornfield on either side and many lumbering along the road. Dan's panicking too, pleading with me to drive faster and go around them, an animal need for survival keeping me from passing out. _

_There's one that looks like it used to be a woman, standing right in the middle of the road and gazing unblinkingly into my headlights, her features grotesque and contorted. She stands transfixed in the light of my headlight beams, reaching forward mindlessly like the vehicle is just one other thing to consume._

_I can't get out of the way in time and my left mirror clips her in the shoulder, jerking her forward and slamming her body onto the black pavement. She breaks like she's made of paper, gashes opening everywhere and blood bursting from them immediately. _

_ Yet she stands right back up, lurching after me with her face grossly altered now, bleeding freely onto the ground as she pursues us. I slam the gas again, jerking away from the horde around me and finally reaching open road. My hands are shaking horribly now and before I can stop myself I'm gasping out dry, delirious sobs, internally begging with all my heart that none of this is real, that the nightmare will end. Because this can't be happening._

_We make it to the countryside, far from anywhere where there will be people, at least for a little while. I drive without stopping, trying to distance myself as much as I can from this living nightmare. We're both hyperventilating, feeling purely terrified at what we just experienced. How we barely got away. The road is winding and sat in the middle of miles of open meadow, and there are stars starting to come out above us, brilliantly white as if the whole galaxy is here on display, inappropriately beautiful for a newborn apocalypse. _

_This weird peaceful atmosphere is too much after that brief harrowing moment that will haunt me for the rest of my life, and I let out a choked sob as we carry on, the gentle hum of the car's engine pulsing rhythmically like a sad tempo for our thoughts. _

_I don't dare look at Dan, possibly the only person I have in the world now, not wanting to see the devastation and heartbreak on his face. _

_Where are we going to go from here? What will we do? Now that our homes are gone, our families in locations unknown, unable to go back and not sure how to go forward, all we can really do is drive until the car is out of gas, which won't be for a while yet, but is inevitable nevertheless. So many unanswerable questions that a few hours ago I would scarcely believe I'd ever be asking, now a harsh, impossible reality._

_I reach out desperately until my hand finds Dan's, squeezing it like it's my only tether to reality. His hand is cold in mine and we're both shaking something awful, and there's only one clear thought that I can formulate: _

_My main priority, no matter what happens and above anything else, under any circumstances, is to keep Dan safe, keep him alive._

The afternoon my life changed for good, only a distant memory when I think about it now. What happened afterwards is the part that's hauntingly clear in my mind, and the memory of holding onto Dan before it did. It was when we left London that things became a living nightmare, and that's the when I banish thinking about any of it. I banish any kind of thought. 

Back in the present, a soft mass smacks me across the face and I sit up with a jolt, snapping myself out of that awful memory. My heart sinks as I remember the day, my chest aching as the familiar fear creeps back just remembering what it was like, seeing a zombie that first time. Even though we see so many zombies nowadays there's something oddly surreal about remembering that very first time, I guess because it marks the day when our lives changed forever.

I shudder slightly and look down at where the offending object has landed in my lap, slowly focusing on the rolled-up mass as it clicks into my head what this is. It's my duvet, the one that Dan had stolen in sleep last night, though I probably would have given it to him anyways if I'd seen him shivering in the chilly night air in an attempt to warm his overly long-legged body.

It really doesn't feel like summer anymore, especially once the sun goes down. The days are already getting colder and while they're not exactly anything to worry about yet, they weren't hot anymore and that's not necessarily a good thing. He's tall like me, already he's grown so much since our night fleeing London.

"Decided to return my blanket, I see," I say brightly, trying to mask my unhappy state. Why do I let myself slip into these memories? All they do is torture me, fuelling my nightmares once I've fallen asleep. Remembering them won't change the past and they definitely won't help my heal any better. The memories are like a wound. Leave them alone and they won't bother me, gradually fading and fading until they're nothing more than a faint scar on my heart. Poke and prod at them and call them up from where they lay dormant, and the feeling only grows more painful, to the point of a breakdown as it grows and festers. It's not healthy and it's not useful, and I clench my fist around the soft fabric, squeezing it tightly until my grip on reality feels steady.

I look up and see Dan half smiling at me, looking dignified as always but his eyes the dead giveaway, betraying his amusement and his good spirits at my joke.

"I didn't like it that much." He says offhandedly. "It's all colourful and blinded me the second I woke up."

I can't help it, a breathy laugh escapes my lips and slowly the painful feeling that the memory left behind dissolves, bringing me back to this reality that right now is all about Dan and I, and Cat, who is laying back with her arms folded, staring up at the sky. I toss the blanket next my bag and make sure the blue and green pattern is visible from where he sits.

"Ah yes," Dan breathes, bemused. "and now the Phil Lester aesthetic is complete. Lovely." I reach over to where he's sitting, punching him lightly on the arm, and he rolls his eyes, chuckling softly.

"Shut up, _Daniel," _I shoot back, though I wish for him to do nothing of that sort. "We're going into the town today, aren't we? We need to see if there's any useful crap we can take. Who knows," I add as an afterthought, grinning at him slyly and raising my eyebrows. "Maybe we'll find a straightener, and finally fix that beautiful hobbit hair you love so much."

"You can fight me_,_" he shoots back, and I snort loudly, thrusting my hand into his hair before he can push me off and brushing through it like crazy, thoroughly messing it up before he shoves me off with both hands and begins pummelling me with light punches until I surrender. He then retreats and begins rapidly running his hands through the mess, trying to shift it all back into place.

He's really smiling now, and I breathe a sigh of contentment at knowing he's here, ready for another day in this hellhole of a world. He's already rearranging himself into a more dignified stance but for a moment I saw him there, my best friend letting himself be laid back and joking. I try not to miss it all the time because I still have him here. Things change and people change in order to make it in his world. I wonder if he thinks I've changed too.

He suddenly stretches and then gets to his feet, wandering towards the far corner of the shelter where we've stacked a bunch of timber chunks to form a makeshift staircase, climbing up higher and higher along the collapsed wood pile that is our wall until he reaches the very top board, settling himself down and swinging his legs over the edge, scoping out the valley below to check that all is clear and zombie free so that we can head on down later on.

I stare contentedly at him so high up, the sky blue and brilliant above him, the breeze blowing his hair and teasing it even messier than it already was as the sun shines down, lighting up the whole concrete block. He swings his legs gently back and forth, looking so comfortable in his thoughts that I'm tempted to join him.

I hear Cat sigh behind me and I only glance over at her for a second, seeing her shake her head in amusement. I tip my head back and let it thud softly against the wall, the sun's rays warming my face as I let myself relax and a smile breaks across my features. She's quiet after that, only saying one other thing in a voice so quiet I almost don't hear it at all.

"Ah man, you are _so screwed."_

"Whatever you say, Cat." I reply absently, my thoughts drifting elsewhere, but not necessarily in a bad way this time. It doesn't always have to be bad.

"I know you think you're funny Phil, but I know exactly what's going on here. You can "whatever" me all you like, but.." She's probably staring at me, but I don't look up, so I don't actually know.

"I can tell what's happing. You're a goner, you loser. A total goner."

I don't answer to this, but I don't have to. My face breaks out into a hot blush, and I slump further down against the wall, and that's all the answer she'll ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! (cozydnp)


	3. piano dan

_Every last day_  
_Seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime._  
_Watch from the ground as the gold fluttered down_  
_From the sky._  
_-_Sara Bareilles, _Send me The Moon_

**Dan **

It feels strange to feel so calm right after waking up.

It's been a long time since I've slept all the way through the night- usually I make it to about three in the morning before the dreams begin and I can't stand to be asleep anymore, surfacing from my nightmares with a tight feeling in my chest, almost as if I'd been drowning. My breaths come in shallow bursts and I'm often shaking so hard that I have to physically make the effort to secure my blanket tightly around me to the point of discomfort, hiding the jittery motions so that I don't wake Phil. I hate seeing the concern in his eyes when I accidentally rouse him from sleep, screaming and flailing before I come to my senses and shut up before a zombie hears me and is alerted to our presence.

Phil never says it but I know he's much more worried about my sleeplessness than he lets on. I feel terrible, personally responsible for the dark circles under his eyes and the stress that makes his shoulders sag in defeat. I don't deserve to have someone like him in my life- he's like my polar opposite, bright and cheerful and always full of optimism. The amount that he cares for others and for me specifically is something I simply cannot comprehend, something even a zombie apocalypse cannot dampen.

For as long as I've known him, he's always been this way. So completely, utterly, insufferably _good_. How does he stand it without exhausting himself? I'll never know. The human bloody equivalent of the sun, I feel like I'm just some shadow that eclipses him.

Even his _eyes_ are bright, impossibly blue in a way that I've never seen on another human, ever. Against his black hair, they catch me off-guard when the rest of our world is all browns and grays and greens. I am in no way this colourful, nor do I want to be. I'd probably go crazy, would have to resort to faking it, because I'm just not that kind of person.

I'm not heartless- I know how to appreciate others. Phil and Cat are worth more to me than they'll ever hear me express, I've just never been that great around people. I don't like to depend on others, it makes me feel weak and vulnerable, because when you hand your trust and safety to a person you're give them a weapon against you, the ability to abuse your weaknesses and hurt you beyond repair. It's a dangerous thing in this world to get invested, who even knows how many people have been killed because they put their faith in the wrong person.

I like to stay closely guarded, not always sharing all that I'm feeling like Phil, who is so open-book around me I worry for him simply because I can't trust myself not to say the wrong thing by accident. He's too gentle for this world, although I know he can be strong when he wants to be. It was Phil that got us out of London after all, not me, and I probably wouldn't be here today if he didn't have my back.

While we are in some ways exceptionally different people, this is something that is mutually understood. He's my closest friend and always will be, a loyal constant in my life. Anyone else might have a much harder time.

And it's not like he's made of glass. Phil _is_ strong, stronger than me in a lot of ways, but he's human and humans are prone to shortcomings. He's strange because he feels so much more than I do and yet I hardly ever see tears in his eyes, he holds himself so steadily and yet it's always him whose eyes I see soften when our gazes meet. He cares and he doesn't stop caring, a strange relationship when it feels like I hardly give an adequate amount in return.

The world is being strangely quiet today. After living rough for so long, sleeping under the stars and spending my days always on alert, I've become so much more attuned to what's going on in the environment around me. One year ago, you wouldn't even catch me outside of my uni dorm unless I was hungry or the next Final Fantasy was released, not if I could avoid the prying eyes of roommates and strangers alike. I preferred to avoid human contact and direct sunlight if at all possible, the typical internet hobo teenager that all of us are at some point. As long as I had Skype and my social medias, I could tough through anything. At least I thought that was what I was doing.

I feel so distanced from the boy now, so much older, my outlook on life a completely different perspective nowadays. Now, a life like that seems so provided and shallow. These days I can observe my environment like some sort of weird nature guru, every sound and movement the outdoors has to offer catalogued and defined in my mind to mean something. Telltale rustles usually indicate approaching animals, a change in the direction of the wind warning of a shift in the weather. A village that looks too conveniently stocked on resources could be a trap or overrun by zombies. And so on.

Things are different in the world now. Life isn't temporary anymore and death isn't permanent, the lines so blurred it's best if you just avoid thinking about it. It's much more stressful if you think about it. Death is an art now, a concept with multiple meanings when it's no longer finite, and it's literally everywhere. It's all around us.

I sit on the top of the barn board pile, high enough up that the breeze catches my hair and everything below looks somewhat distant and small. My legs dangle down with nothing below them but a twelve foot drop onto the grassy hillside, and I take a deep breath, taking in the earthy outdoor smell, scanning the horizon where a small, abandoned town sprawls for about a mile.

Our mission for the day is to visit this place, I've already talked with Cat and she thinks it's worth checking out if Phil and I are looking to update our supplies a bit. I'm somewhat suspicious about the apparent lack of zombies there, especially since it looks like it once held a substantial number of people. But I trust Cat, even if she is half zombie. She's proven herself to us in the past many times over, and she's already been down there herself. If she says it's good, then it is.

My fingers trace the rough wood grain below me absentmindedly as I start to assemble a rough schedule of the day in my head. I turn my head back to look down below at my two friends, seeing Cat sitting by the fire and Phil leaning against the far wall, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He's frowning, which makes me wonder if something is wrong.

Did I not sleep well after all? I thought my dreams were relaxed but for all I know I could easily have forgotten. _What if I've kept him up all night? _My content mood shifts uncomfortably, the familiar stress creeping back into my consciousness.

I place my hands against the board I'm sitting on and shift around to face back in towards the interior of the barn. Pushing off, I'm airborne for a few seconds before my feet touch down onto the stacked timbers below, and slowly I start to pick my way back down from where I've come. I step cautiously so that I don't trip on weak boards.

I try to detect a change in the atmosphere when I'm back on the ground, wondering if the mood had shifted recently or if it's all in my head. I thought he was fine, he'd smiled and joked with me when I threw his blanket at him earlier- he always forgets to fold it, but I'm second-guessing it now, wondering if it was genuine.

I make it down to the ground in no time and move to sit down next to Phil, settling myself a slight space away to his left and poking his foot with my toe. My runners are dirty and worn-down from a year of wear, the black material dark next to his blue ones with their peeling soles. They could represent us metaphorically, those battered shoes. Beaten-up and bright contrasting with dark. Probably time for new ones, but I wouldn't know where to start to find some.

He looks over at me and smiles, then settles back against the wall. It catches me slightly. 

I'm not usually one to show affection but his lack of response annoys me, mostly because I really don't want him to be upset, particularly if it's my fault. That would be a miserable day. So I let out a sigh, shuffling sideways to close the distance between us and letting the side of my head thud onto his shoulder noncommittally.

"Pay attention to me, Lester." I huff, nudging him with my head in what I hope is the most irritating way possible.

He reaches over and presses his palm against my face, shoving it away and then squeezing my chin with his thumb and forefinger, squishing my cheeks.

"Hey!" I squeak in protest, jerking away, reacting as if he'd burned me and not like he's literally the only person in the known universe that I'd allow to get away with that. "I did not consent to any inappropriate face-touching." He merely shrugs, his face softening into a smile.

"I always pay attention to you." He argues. "You're the only friend I have besides Cat, idiot."

I glare at him even though really I'm not mad at all, it's an empty glare and I'm sure he knows it. At least I know he's not upset with me now. Just lost in thought, though I have no idea what they could be about. He's gone back to sitting silently, his eyes fixed on his shoes with the obvious expression of someone whose mind is elsewhere.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask him, wondering what could possibly be occupying him because while he's obviously not troubled by me, he's just distracted, not annoyingly bubbly like usual.

He sighs and looks back over at me, shaking his fringe out of his eyes. His hair has grown longer in the last few months and it's starting to encroach on his visibility, but it's still as straight and tidy as it's always been, something I used to be incredibly jealous of when we were internet friends. Not like my brown bush of hair. I raise my eyebrows at him, prompting an answer.

"Just..." he trails off, picking his words carefully. "Thinking about... stuff."

Like that's a proper answer.

"Very specific."

"Thank you. I spent a whole two seconds cultivating it for you."

He stares at me and the silence unnerves me. I stare back.

"Right. What are you _actually _thinking about?" I ask, sticking out a finger to poke him gently.

His eyes lower and I wonder if I've said the wrong thing. What is up with him today? This is not the Phil I know. He starts tapping the side of his foot against mine absently, but he does give me an answer.

"I'm thinking about the day we left London, honestly." He says unexpectedly. "It was so long ago, but I'll never forget that first time we saw the zombie. I was so scared back then and I thought I was going to lose you somehow. I don't want to do that."

Okay, not what I was expecting, but I appreciate the underlying message in his words, that he's happy to have me. It makes me feel important, valid, even if the memory itself is still somewhat raw and uncomfortable. I'm not sure why I'm surprised to hear he's worrying about something like that when it was over a year ago, it really does come as unexpected to me and I wonder how it possibly could have crossed his mind.

Something must have happened in the night that's caused him to remember. I don't want him to worry, I want him to be excited about the journey into town and in a good mood because usually the spirits of our little group ride on whatever wavelength Phil is walking on that day, like the heartbeat of a living being. It's not like we can count on me to do it, I'll be the one to dig in my heels and drag them down as much as possible, scoffing when Phil gets too excited about some mundane trinket or something.

Cat helps I suppose, she's stubborn as hell if she wants to see us having a good time. Somehow though that's a background noise for me, the notion of Phil smiling on this watery lighting morning because I decided to be less of a dick than usual outweighing it. It makes no sense, I know that. They're _my _thoughts, I don't have to make sense of them.

So I give in and pull him in with one arm for a hug, which at first he tenses in reaction to. I feel something then, a small sink in my chest at the realization that this is a surprise to him, mentally noting that I'm a worse friend than I thought. Just as this crosses my mind he slowly settles into it, leaning against me and reminding me again that this is all in my head. I feel the achievement in this small victory, seeing how comforting has never been my forte, reminding myself that Phil has seen me at my worst, and he's still here. I don't really feel the appeal of hugs like I used to but it seems to have worked for Phil, who seems to feel a little bit better just with this small contact.

"Don't worry about that stuff," I chide him, wanting to put his mind at ease. "We've made it this far, haven't we? You just have to take it one day at a time."

He merely nods in response, but I feel his head rest on my shoulder and I know he's not worried anymore. I don't even scoff at him for the motion, feeling the weight and letting him take the comfort. I can do that at least.

We both settle into a comfortable silence then, sinking into our own trains of thought. Now that the sun's up it's nice and warm, even in our dimly lit shelter almost completely roofed over by collapsed barn boards. It's comforting, being here with him when it's quiet like this, and I probably could sit here for much of the day if not for Cat coming over to our corner, having finished repacking all the supplies she thought I'd stuffed away in too messy of a fashion. That's the role Cat plays in our life, the put-together friend who cleans up our messes.

"I think we're about ready to get off to town now, if you guys are up to it." She says, then seems to properly notice the way we're sitting. She smirks, raising her eyebrows, to which I just roll my eyes. "Unless you're comfortable just sitting there- it's up to you."

Phil quickly lifts his head off my shoulder and turns away to grab his own backpack, and I almost feel a bit unhappy about the end of the moment already. I haven't sat back and relaxed in a while, constantly on the lookout for danger or other things, and it was comforting, just being still for a while. But it's getting on high noon now and that means we'll need to move if we want to look around in the safety of full daylight, so now's a good time to go.

"Sure," I reply, accepting my neatly organized bag that she hands me with a smirk, stopping to pick up my crowbar that I've always carried since I found it, just in case. "Let's head out."

Phil shoulders his bag in silence and keeps his head turned away from me, and I smirk as I imagine his cheeks turning pink.

~~~

Up close, the town is not quite as well-kempt as I'd thought it had been.

It's obviously been left for quite sometime, the houses falling into abandoned disrepair and many of the colourful storefronts missing glass in their windows. It's been evacuated, looted and picked over, like a hundred different places in all the hundreds of towns we've been through. Though it's not all a waste as Cat, having already been here before, directs us to a specific farmhouse on the corner of what must have once been an unassuming neighbourhood side street.

The door is locked tight and we end up needing to break a window to get in, but it's worth it when we step inside and realize why she picked this place. No one's really been in here for at least a year, at least not since the apocalypse. I'm not sure why that is but I don't question it, as it means the whole interior is almost completely untouched.

It's big on the inside, and I abandon caution somewhat to separate myself from Phil and Cat, exploring the rooms with a slightly surreal feeling in my stomach, seeing all these reminders of previous domestic life, everything in place like a normal home, just very dusty from a year without inhabitants. The kitchen, for example, is well-organized and nicely updated, with a cool stained wood countertop and some dishes in the sink, something I haven't seen or thought about in ages.

I start to make my way down the long hallway, trying every door to see if there's anything worth taking in each room, and with good results. The first door leads me to a bedroom, where I find a candle and a box of matches in one of the bedside table drawers. Definitely good, very useful. I also find a clean throw blanket, which will be good for when it starts to get colder at night.

The next room turns out to be a bathroom, and I start a little when I see my own reflection in the mirror, something I'm not used to in such detail because I only ever see myself reflected in windows or on the surface of water. Actually that's an understatement, I very nearly jump out of my skin because for a moment I think there's a brown-eyed stranger in this house.

It's strange, seeing how different I look. I don't stare for too long because it's only a reminder of what life is now. My face looks aged, with dark circles under the eyes. I've also tanned some, having lived, eaten and slept outdoors for ages now. I do take the time to adjust my curly hair, taking advantage of being able to see it and not entirely thrilled at seeing what a mess it is. I look awful, and without a comb or a straightener there's no way to set it straight.

I don't know how Phil stands to look at me, and glare at the reflection of my own face. The expression at least feels familiar, calming me enough to turn away.

I shake my head, opening a drawer and grabbing the roll of bandages in the cupboard; you never know when or where you might need that. We've been lucky since the beginning to only seriously need them once, our lives are mostly made up of Phil's self-inflicted injuries than anything, given his clumsiness.

I'm tucking my new finds into my bag, about to make my way into the last room on the end when I hear Phil shout from the other side of the house, sending me flying into a panic at first because I fear that something's wrong.

But there's an excitement to his voice, and it has me rushing to see what he's found.

"Dan! Dan! Come into the room over here, you've got to see what I've found! Hurry!"

I move as quickly as I can, passing back through the kitchen and skidding round a corner to the lounge, where his voice beckons through a door off this large room. I step through the archway, seeing Phil haloed by the light of a tall rectangular window, the room itself rather small but full of natural light.

"You better have a damn good reason for making me run like this." I huff irritably, pasting a frown on my face so I can at least pretend I want him to feel guilty. "You'd better be dying."

My feet sink into grey carpet and at first I wonder what's so spectacular about the room, seeing as it's mostly empty, when I realize what object is sitting behind Phil.

"Do you see that, Dan?" He breathes, though it been stunned into silence. "When was the last time we've been around one of those?"

He sounds so excited, voice high-pitched and eyes alight with a childlike wonder, but I'm at a complete loss for words as I stare at this ethereal object, not having seen one it what feels like a lifetime.

It's a piano.

Nothing too fancy or spectacular, just a standard oak wood one with dusty black and white keys, but I can hardly believe my eyes as I take it in, wondering if it's just my imagination.

"You're kidding...." I breathe, my voice trailing off as I make my way over to it, sitting down on the accompanying wooden stool as if I'm walking in a dream. For most of my young life I played the piano, it was one thing that after I'd initially learned had always come naturally, something I always felt secure and comfortable in when everything else, from family life to my life at school started to feel tense and overwhelming. I loved the being able to release melodies with a touch of my fingertips, it felt like such a free form of expression even when I played notes written by other people's hands, and I can't believe Phil thought to remember that this was something I loved so much.

"I can't believe you remembered-"

"You should play something!" He urges, and I'm about to refuse, already on the cusp of shaking my head when he seems to get a sudden thought, and his eager, excited face makes me change my mind almost instantly. "Moonlight Sonata! The one you used to play for me on Skype all the time!"

"Phil, honestly." I protest, fingers trailing over the keys and brushing the dust away from it.

I see Cat poke her head in, probably investigating after all the shouting.

"Is that.. a piano?" She questions,

"No, it's just a block of wood pretending to be a piano." I shoot sarcastically, and Phil laughs.

"I'm trying to get Dan to play it." He chuckles, "but he's being stubborn because he's too talented."

Now I've got two eyes on me, the pressure on.

I smile at the memory, and I can't help it, I turn back to the instrument and start to play, the piano horrendously out of tune to my ears but Phil settles down on the windowsill, beckoning Cat to do the same with an impossibly happy look on his face. Sunlight beams all around me and I feel as if I'm under a grand spotlight, all traces of the apocalypse vanishing, if only for this moment. I lose myself, amazed at how naturally the song comes despite never once thinking about it in all this time.

The song starts off slow, partly because my playing is a little rusty after so long but also because it's the natural rhythm of the music. Just three keys, over and over and interspersed with a lilting deeper note every few repetitions, a lulling melody that ascends and then descends over and over in a hypnotizing flow. Gradually it's as if something clicks and suddenly my fingers are playing smoothly, the notes rising and falling and building on one another in complete succession and I relax completely, just letting them come to me as my memory reawakens.

The high ceilings provide a beautiful reverberation and the song fills the air, almost as alive and tangible as we are. Phil has closed his eyes and Cat's silvery half-life eyes are wide with wonder. They hang on to each and every sound, savouring the bit of music after having gone so long without.

If I were to describe the feeling that's settling into my heart at this moment, I would describe it with this. I feel something, a deep sense of contentment and an indescribable warmth, almost a homely feeling, despite this house belonging to somebody I'll never know.

I lose myself in my playing until I run out of song, playing the last few notes and listening to the last deep echo fade, resonating lightly as the music disappears mystically, played on without hands to help.

An odd sense of melancholy washes over me and I sit back, sighing deeply, returned to the world as it was before.

Now that the song has ended, the silence in the room is suddenly deafening, an almost physical buzz that thrums in the air like a tense electricity.

I notice with some discomfort that a lump is forming in my throat and I try to ignore it, not wanting to cry in front of my friends over a bloody _piano. _But in the few moments before the song was over, the three of us had felt something that we hadn't since the days when all was normal and right. A deep feeling of normalcy, of calm. I hear Phil sigh, and I can't help but do that same.

I'm at a loss for words, but I feel good, so impossibly good, and it's strange for me. Playing an old dusty piano shouldn't amount to this volume of feeling, but it's happening all the same.

"That," Cat concludes, looking at me with a smile that reaches all the way up to her eyes, "was incredible. Truly. Please tell me you all felt it."

I nod and Phil does too, and I almost don't want to leave this room, knowing it means I'll be returning to the old, hard reality.

We sit for a while longer, until all of us remember at the same time that we're limited in regards to daylight. I'm not gonna be the one to say it though so I wait for one of the other two, Phil as usual taking up the spokesperson role when no one else is up to it.

"Guess we should get on, then, see what else we can find before the daylight runs out."

"Suppose we should," I reply, looking back one last time at the piano. "Think we should take the front door, now that we can open it from the inside?"

I ask this to no one in particular, but it seems a good idea as any so we shoulder our backpacks and I take the lead, walking out of the piano room and re-entering the lounge where the front door is located, feeling the weight of the world drop back onto my shoulders as my feet hit the wooden floor again, the spell broken.

My hands fumble with the latch for a bit until I successfully get it to click open, and I drop it to the side and turn the knob, opening the heavy wooden front door and swinging it aside to reveal the porch landing, where I find myself face-to-face with a zombie.

My heart skips a beat.

I let out an involuntary scream as I leap back, dodging it's lunging bite and slamming into Phil, knocking us both backwards. I can see more zombies lumbering up behind the first one and I realize suddenly what a stupid mistake I'd made; The sound of that piano in this empty town probably carried on for a mile, attracting every zombie within the woods and anywhere in the town to this exact area.

I can hear the moans of others approaching from way back, in reality there's probably only about a dozen but against three people expecting to dip in and dip out, we're seriously outnumbered.

"Get back!" Cat shouts and we both obey, jumping as far back as we can as she slams the door shut, the monsters already pounding against it to get in. She re-bolts the latch and immediately backs away, the door shaking as the group works away at it. Gurgly screeches and low growls cut loudly through the air, and my heart begins to pound in real fear.

"There's so many." I mutter, my mind racing.

"Okay, plan B," Cat announces. "We're going out the way we came in, back through the window in the backyard." Neither of us disagree. We sprint across the house, making it to the aforementioned window and scrambling through it with no amount of grace to be seen.

Dropping to the ground, we're sure we've made it out relatively scot-free until we see the small crowd of zombies stumbling forwards from both sides of the building, with more emerging from the woods backing on the property line. We're completely surrounded, it's fight or die now.

"_Shit_." I spit out again, raising my crowbar as I stand back-to back with Phil on one side and Cat on the other. Dangerous situations bring out the most eloquent in all of us, and right now feels like we've been caught uncharacteristically off guard. I'm cursing myself for being so lazy in preparing to go in today. These things should never, ever be left to chance.

Phil is trembling but his axe is held steady in his hand, and I harden my determination as I think about how I will go down fighting just to keep him alive, as if we were already dying. It's quickly becoming apparent that there are a few more than a dozen, who knows where they all were when Cat visited here last night. We're never usually caught with this many around us.

Now I know why the homes have never been plundered, this place is crawling with zombies, her presence must not have triggered their appearance seeing how she wasn't completely alive.

As the first few monsters make it over to us we finally spring into action, hacking and smashing and driving our weapons into the lethal areas, the head areas, avoiding the snapping jaws and snatching hands. Striking a zombie in its limbs or torso does little to nothing. They don't feel pain so breaking bones or opening gashes will not inhibit them in any way.

The time Phil stuck his entire axe in Cat's stomach when we first met her and how it did nothing is a good reminder of that. They are little more than numb bodies controlled by a rotten, infected brain, hell-bent on consuming living flesh, so knowing their vulnerabilities means the difference between life and death. Destroy the control center, and you destroy the zombie. Cut off the head or strike the brain, that is the focus. As the zombies at the front make their way over to the side yard as well, that is exactly what we try to do.

But even with mine and Phil's efforts and Cat's invulnerability as a zombie herself, we are hugely outnumbered and I panic as I start to tire and there are still over ten lunging forward relentlessly. I've never been one to dwell on the worst-case scenario, but we're dangerously close to being overwhelmed.

I swing my crowbar so violently towards the zombie nearest me that when the metal hits the soft, decaying flesh the head breaks almost clean off, the zombie collapsing to the ground almost immediately. My side is relatively clear so I turn to help my friends, when I see a zombie behind Phil, who is preoccupied with a particularity ferocious one at the moment.

He's distracted, not even seeing the one behind him opening it's mouth and darting forward to deliver the death bite. I panic and lunge forward with little thought but to save him, viciously striking the monster until it too falls to the ground, soon followed by the one that had distracted him too. I'm in shock, how close he just unwittingly came to death, how it could have happened just that easily, and never would I have him there ever again.

It makes my stomach feel sick and makes me fight all the more harder, I will _not _lose him to anything.

_There's too many._

They're closing in, some even going for Cat now.

_We'll never make it._

It's only a matter of time before we're overwhelmed, and then we'll really be in trouble.

_Maybe this is how it ends._

I swing and slash and hack with all I have in me but it my arms are burning. We can't take them all on alone. After all that we've survived through in the past year, it's almost laughable that this would be the way we'd die, surrounded by a zombie horde because I'd wanted to play piano for my best friend. Because that's why they're here. If we die here and now, it's going to be my fault. We give a valiant effort, Phil axing, me swinging and Cat stabbing with a short bladed knife, but it's not going to be enough.

Finally the worst possible thing that could happen in this situation happens with the lunge of a zombie and the slip of a foot.

Phil falls, knocked back by the force of an attack, and suddenly he's on the ground, struggling against the monster that has him pinned in the grass, desperately trying to keep the mouth from landing a single bite.

"_PHIL_!" I scream, panicking because I can't help him, there's two zombies on me right now and Cat is completely surrounded. I slam my crowbar into the head of the one zombie and it crumples but the second one is smarter, dodging my attacks and grabbing for the bar with rotten hands.

I can't help him, there's no way. I try sidestepping because the zombie is slow but that only allows for it to seize my crowbar, actually yanking it out of my hands and sending me stumbling sideways. Now unarmed and unsteady, I can only run and watch as Phil sinks under the weight of the zombie bearing down on him. I abandon all pretence, pounding forward hoping to knock it off him, to jump in front of him, to do something, anything.

The zombie pushes Phil's arms forward, gripping the axe horizontally, and I can see his hands jerk, exposing his vulnerable neck. The zombie sees it too, and leans down with its mouth open wide, bearing down-

A loud bang cuts through the air and the zombie over Phil falls on top of him, a hole shot straight through it's head. I don't even stop to question the mysterious saviour, even as consecutive shots ring out, mowing down all the other zombies too. I rush over to Phil and push the corpse roughly off of him, yanking him to his feet.

Predictably, he stumbles. I have to grip the inside of his elbows to steady him, both of us shaking hard, and when I look up with bated breath to meet his eyes I see how wide and unfocused they are.

Before I've even stopped to think about it, my breath catches and I surge forward, yanking him towards me and throwing my arms around him as a gasp leaves my lips.

_Idiot._ My mind curses._ Fucking idiot. _The relief coursing through me betrays what I'm really feeling though.

I can feel his heart hammering against his chest as he squeezes me back, tightly, and we watch as the few remaining zombies are shot down or finished by Cat who is still fighting, eyes focused. She stabs the last one right in the center of its forehead, watching it fall with a blazing look in her eyes. It slips to the ground and she grins triumphantly, then sprints on over to us, joining in to form a group embrace, which only lasts a few seconds because we are suddenly alerted to the identity of our saviours. Truth be told, I'd almost forgotten about them.

Two men and a woman emerge from the bushes, the men both medium in height but vastly different in appearance; one tanned with wavy black hair dyed red at the fringe and round, dark eyes, the other paler with sideswept blond hair and blue eyes. The woman is gorgeous, tall with long, caramel hair and big brown eyes, she keeps close to the second man but has her eyes trained on us.

We've barely raised our hands in greeting and thankfulness when all three draw their guns, simultaneously pointing them in our direction.

We drop our hands and back up completely against the wall, staring in disbelief at the glares they shoot our way. Phil shifts nervously next to me, reaching out and gripping my hand, and I in turn look at each of the individuals in front of us, trying to think fast despite my crowbar being inaccessible, laying way off in the grass.

After a long silence the black haired man speaks up, fixing his eyes on us and shooting us a suspicious look.

"Tell me why you're here right now," he orders, "or we'll shoot you right where you stand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! (cozydnp)


	4. we're all friends here

_If I can feel it, why do I need to see it – do I?_  
_See you brought your wits about you._  
_-_Andrew Belle, _Dark Matter_

**Phil** ****

_Earlier_

I'm about to die.

A zombie has pinned me to the ground, bearing down on me as I struggle to regain my breath, the wind knocked out of me and a dull pain in my back as I strain against it on the grass.

I force my axe handle forward as a horizontal barrier which it pushes against, trying to find a way around it so it can bite any part of my flesh. I can smell its rotten breath and it makes me want to cough, its skin ice cold against my hand. I see that it's missing an eye, just a hollow socket where the organ had once been. My smell must be driving it mad. It's snapping its mouth so ferociously I can hear the click of its remaining teeth, desperately trying to land a hit.

"_PHIL_!" Dan is somewhere, probably about to watch me die by a bite to the neck.

I hear the sickening thud of metal hitting flesh as Dan struggles to kill the two zombies that have him cornered right now. He can't save me and Cat is preoccupied with even more monsters. This monster is nearly six feet tall, almost as tall as me, and though it's thin due to the decay of its body, it's fully dressed in a heavy flannel jacket and cargo pants, the word _lumberjack_ popping into my head at the most useless time. My heart is racing impossibly fast as I try to push him off, hoping I can shake him long enough to land a hit.

And all around us zombies keep on coming. I could lose both my friends here and now, in the overgrown backyard of this beautiful farmhouse. Not to mention my own life, which is hanging dangerously in balance right now. My arms are shaking under the strain, I just can't hold them up anymore. With the last strength of my arm, I move to swing my axe to hit the zombie in the side of the head, but it just jerks forward, clamping its hands onto my wrists with an icy iron grip, pushing them away from my face and exposing my neck to it's hungry jaw.

There's nothing I can do. I squeeze my eyes shut as I brace for the pain, feeling the monster lean down to bite. I feel the touch of rotten teeth, shuddering in repulsion but it only lasts a second- a loud bang penetrates the air and I feel the zombie collapse on top of me, my vision dark as it's obscured by the mass of the zombie's broad chest. I'm too exhausted to push it off me, even though it's difficult to breathe because of how afraid I am and how the musty fabric covering the monster is pressed over my face.

I only lay still, my heart still pounding as one thought reels in my head.

_I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive._

Shots continue to ring out all around, zombies thudding to the ground left, right, and center.

The zombie is forcefully shoved off me, freeing me from my pinned state. I crack open my eyes as I take in a deep breath, my vision slightly blurry. I feel sick but slightly adrenalized in how close I just came to death.

Vaguely, I see someone leaning over me, then a warm, strong hand grips mine, and I realize it's Dan. He yanks me roughly to my feet and I've only just steadied myself and turned to face him when he throws his arms around me, squeezing me tightly and making my heart explode into rapid beats. I lift my hands and wrap my arms around his small form, gripping the fabric of his jumper as he buries his face into my shoulder.

Thank god, we're both okay. I hold him tight, feeling his comforting warmth and trying to slow my breaths as I lift my eyes to watch Cat stab the only zombie left standing, my heart slowing down now but feeling weird and fluttery all the same.

Cat tucks her knife away with a satisfied smirk, catching my eye and grinning when she sees me with Dan. She sprints over, joining in our group hug just as our saviours emerge from the bushes, two men and a woman, approaching us cautiously. We all slowly break out of it, turning to greet them. As they get closer I raise my hand and smile, opening my mouth to thank them, when suddenly they simultaneously whip out their guns, one pointed at Dan, Cat and I each.

My heart stops. We all back up in seconds, focused on the immediate threat in front of us. I try to take a moment and observe our visitors, thinking maybe if I make eye contact they'll feel more like they're facing actual human beings and not unfeeling monsters, interacting kindly rather than taking lives. They try to avoid my gaze but that's hard to do when your gun is pointed at the person's forehead, and I take advantage of this fact.

The man on the right is the most hostile looking one. He's much shorter than me but considerably more muscular, and has wavy red dyed hair on the top of his head, falling over sharp, dark eyes. He's the one whose gun is fixed almost point-blank on my head, and he looks ready to shoot too.

Next to him, the other man of about the same size stares coolly forward, icy blue eyes peering out from below a messy mass of straight, blonde hair. He's standing closely to the woman who is a little taller than him and has, despite the circumstance, a very kind face, with wide chocolate brown eyes that remind me somewhat of someone else's. Her long, coppery hair is tossed over her shoulder, a bit tangled and messy from hard living.

I can tell by the way they stand, guarding one another without realizing it and the way they exchange looks that they're probably a couple. I wonder if they really want to kill anyone at all. Unlike their companion, they don't look like the killing type, unless faced with a zombie.

We stand facing each other for a few seconds, both groups sizing the other up. We're clearly at a disadvantage; Dan's unarmed and Cat and I's weapons are nothing against the speed and killing capabilities of guns. So we stand still, trying not to move for fear of being a threat.

"Tell me why you're here right now." The black-haired man orders. "Or we'll shoot you right where you stand."

Next to me, Dan tenses. My mouth has gone dry.

We need to think something up- and fast, but my mind feels blank and words just don't seem able to formulate properly in my mind, leaving me mute and useless. I don't know why they saved our lives from the zombies if they're now prepared to kill us if necessary, but I'm terrified nonetheless and end up doing the only thing that comes naturally in situations such as this. I stretch out my arm, seeking comfort, finding Dan's hand which I grip tightly. He squeezes back in reassurance, but I'm feeling far from assured at this moment. It's like that moment back in London, I've forgotten my own fears about touching him because it feels like the world might snatch him away,

He's staring hard at the man who threatened us, not at all intimidated like I am. Despite our four year difference he's ever the brave one, still holding tight to my hand, which he can probably feel shaking. I see the man gazing quizzically at our interlocked fingers and realize he could be making any number of assumptions right now. And while it somewhat thrills me that it's possible for people to actually assume that Dan and I are a couple, I know deep down that just isn't how things are, despite any part of my heart that wishes desperately that things were otherwise.

It causes me to feel a flush of embarrassment and to unceremoniously drop his hand, and at a good time too- He's opening his mouth to retort with something, which knowing Dan will probably just piss the guy off, not helping our situation at all. It provides me with the distraction I need. Already the guy has his eyes narrowed in a glare, as if daring him to say what's clearly bursting to get out.

I stop him from speaking before he even starts, placing my hand firmly onto his shoulder, stepping to block him from view of the hostile group, a silent message. _Wait._

Next I drop my axe, meeting my gaze with Cat's. I give her a purposeful look and she sighs, releasing the hilt of her knife and letting it drop to the grass. If we're unarmed, they'll see that we mean no harm and maybe be more lenient in how they treat us. I step closer to the middle guy, not too close though as none of them have wavered at all, still stiffly brandishing their weapons. Raising my hands in a surrendering gesture, I finally get the courage to speak up.

"My name is Phil Lester," I start, motioning toward my friends and rapidly thinking about how to summarize our story, "and these are my friends Cat and Dan." 

I don't want to try their patience. I haven't yet figured out what kind of people they are so I'm not sure of what approach to take. "We used to live in London," I start, choosing to address the blue eyed guy, since he isn't wearing a glare like the other guy and seems the most willing to speak of all three. He looks the smallest bit surprised to be addressed, eyebrows twitching.

"We've been on the run for almost a year now." I add. "We're staying near the woods at the top of the valley right now, and we came into this town to look for supplies."

There. That's our story. I don't mention our barn shelter at the top of the hill, not providing any more personal details than they need or deserve, frankly. I dart my eyes between them, trying to gauge a response or reaction, but the guy doesn't respond, just gazes back expectantly, and I start to sweat.

"That's all there is to us, at least what we're going to share with a bunch of strangers." I continue on hurriedly, "As far our story goes, that's the only part that would be of interest to you- "

It's then that the other man lurches forward, driving the cold barrel of his gun into my forehead and I jerk back, sinking to my knees. He keeps pushing though, pressing the end into my skin.

"-Seriously!" I protest, my mind racing. Does he not believe me?

"That's it?" he snaps. "Nothing else you want to tell us?" 

I nod,not daring to speak again. There's a dangerous edge to his voice, it makes my heart sink.

What else can I possibly tell him? We're just trying to stay alive like everyone else.

Dan is breathing heavily. I try to silently will him to stay out of it. He's afraid for me, but he can't do anything about it- trying anything holds the immediate risk of having me shot through the head. I start to second-guess myself, cursing internally for letting us get so vulnerable, for dropping our weapons like that.

"Mark," The other man orders quietly, speaking slow and firm. "Back off. We're not gonna blow anyone's head off, I'm sure they have more to say."

I don't, though I'm frantically trying to come up with something else, anything else that could help us. Mark frowns, dissatisfied, but he does lower his gun, lifting a massive weight off my chest as my heart calms down minutely.

I take advantage of this merciful distance, safely stepping several lengths back and shooting purposeful looks at Cat and Dan, both of whom look extremely tense at the danger I was just in. Dan's look is murderous, his hands clenched tightly together. I try to reassure him that I'm all right, but his glare is unforgiving, and I'm powerless against it.

"Fine." Mark responds irritably, "fine. But what then-" He directs this question at Dan, and I silently pray that he keeps his cool a little while longer "-are you doing so close to our camp? Not watching us to see what _supplies_ you can kill us for and take for yourself, are you? Where did all those zombies come from, huh? Thought maybe you could loose those on us, or-?"

I start at the way he emphasizes the word "supplies"_, _so sick and sarcastic in tone that I'm realizing he thinks I lied about why we're here. He thinks we've been scoping out his camp, which must be in the area, planning the best way to kill them and take their resources for our own. In a world like this, it's kill or be killed, and I'm sure that such a situation must have happened somewhere in the world. It just isn't the truth in this case.

Dan drops all pretense of being controlled and respectful, surging forward as a horrified look spreads over my features.

"_No_," he growls, moving an almost insultingly close distance to Mark, who looks ready to blow his head off.

"Phil wasn't lying," he spits, each syllable burning with a note of threat. "That's literally all there is to us. We had no idea there was other people around here, we don't know anything about your camp_, _and don't you dare," he hisses, and my heart begins to race, "threaten Phil like that ever again. I don't care if you shoot me, you'll do well to stay away from him. Leave him alone."

Mark's face contorts with rage, and I begin babbling, now terrified Dan's crossed a line.

  
"He doesn't mean that!" I plead. "We're just people- I mean, we're all living under the same circumstances, we were just hungry and this place looked like a good place to search for stuff, we just want to get out safely a-and-" I trail off, withering under Mark's white-hot look. The other man, on the other hand, has softened his gaze. He sets a firm hand on Mark's shoulder and though he still has his gun raised, the girl has lowered hers. He doesn't even look like he intends to use it anyway.

He motions to the area around us, indicating all the zombie corpses left as a physical reminder of our fight and all the bullet holes they contributed, responsible for the fall of many of them.

"So where did all the zombies come from, then? We've lived around here for months now and have never seen them swarm like that. What did you do to attract that many to one place? You've lived this long, so you're clearly not stupid. What did you do?"

_Dan played the piano, that's what. _I think, smiling weakly. I don't dare to say it aloud though, they might think we're making fun of them. _So what do I tell them, then? _My mind reels uselessly, coming up with nothing, and I think we're definitely dead, when  
to my surprise, Cat laughs, speaking up for the first time.

"That might have been Dan, actually, though don't blame him too harshly, we encouraged him. It's kind of a long story..."

"We have time." The girl says softly, saying something after being totally silent thus far.

"Yes, do tell." Mark prods, sounding no friendlier than before.

But Dan interrupts before Cat even replies, cutting in sharply.

"Actually, we don't have a lot of daylight left. We still have to walk back to the shelter so, no, we don't have time. I say the we two groups part our ways now and pretend that none of this ever happened. Nobody gets hurt, and you never have to look at us again."

I can't help but agree with this. If we pretend nothing happened, we can go home safe and sound, and we'll stay away from that town, never bothering these people again, seeing how they obviously own this area and don't take kindly to intruders. I nod vigorously, already longing for our stiff bed on the concrete floor of the barn, safe under the stars with Dan.

I crack an uneasy grin, trying to look as winsome as possible. But Mark just whips his gun back to train on our faces, and we all jerk back in shock.

"And have you three watching our camp while we sleep? Sorry man, but I don't trust any of you. You're coming with us."

Coming with them?! Surely he doesn't mean that. They can't just take us prisoner, we're supposed to head home tonight back to our shelter after a harmless day trip. What if they mean to hurt us? They wouldn't do that, would they?

We're all desperately protesting this statement but he doesn't waver, and once again the other guy gives us a kind look that his probably-girlfriend copies, looking right into my eyes and attempting to smile reassuringly.

"I wouldn't fight against it," the guy says gently, glancing sideways at Mark, "I know he's being an asshole right now but Mark's actually a pretty cool guy once you get to know him. We just don't feel safe letting you guys off so we're gonna have to take you with us, for all we know you could be plotting to kill us in our sleep."

Like hell Mark's a good guy. At least this situation doesn't sound permanent. They just want to be completely, one-hundred percent sure we're safe, and then we'll maybe be free to go back to our own miserable lives. Hopefully.

"I wasn't before but now I'm not all for ruling it out," Dan retorts sarcastically, and I feel my heart constrict in fear. He really shouldn't joke, not like this. I wait for the firestorm of retribution to this but none comes, the blond guy just sighs and the girl tucks her gun away, which calms me slightly.

I shuffle sideways and lean slightly against Dan, my objective now to keep him close. I won't let them separate us-he's all I have and whatever they put us through, they'll have to put us through it together. Besides, it's comforting feeling his warm mass nearby, a reminder that he's alive.

"I'll carry the weapons." The blond guy says, "Just follow our lead and don't think about running off. There's food back at the camp we can give you and we can introduce you to our friend PJ. Who knows,' he adds, actually smiling genuinely, " maybe you guys can even stick around for a bit. Better to be friends than enemies, yeah?"

I don't want to be friends with these people. I just want to get back to the barn on the hill, the closest thing to home we have at the moment. I want them to let us go. It's frustrating, being subject to the actions of others. I don't care that the girl is nice, and the guy is nice-ish. Mark is definitely not, and who even knows what this PJ character is gonna be like. Dan always harasses me for being too warm towards others, saying it hurts more than it helps;

_"You're too- whats the word? Angelic, Phil. You have to stand up for yourself once in a while. People take advantage of good people, you don't need that."_

I remember him saying that, before any of this had happened. Even now he worries for me because he thinks I'm too open. I'd remind him that he isn't open enough, a lot of people think he's mean or cold because his seeming lack of empathy and feeling. But I know the truth. He has the most sensitive soul, he's just been hurt, beaten down so many times that his first line of defense is to build up a wall, shutting it all out before any harmful situation can faze him. I don't know what made him decide to let me in, or entirely why he chooses to shut others out, all that matters is that he did. Being nice to others led me to being close to him in the first place, and despite having a gun literally_ shoved_ into my forehead earlier, some stupid part of me is still reverting to this default.

So even though my mind is protesting in a string of _no_s, I don't voice them aloud. I stay silent, staring blankly as the guy shifts uncomfortably from our lack of response and scrambles forward, gathering up our weapons as his friends stand straight, keeping a close eye on our movements, or lack, thereof.

As the he reaches for my axe, he comes the closest to any of us that he has thus far, the one of us being Dan. He's bent forward, not looking in his direction but still blatantly trusting that we won't make a move on him. Dan presses further against my side, making it very clear that he doesn't want any form of closeness or contact with our captors. I think the man notices, his eyes flickering upwards and then away, realizing he's caused Dan to be uncomfortable.

But instead of commenting on it, he just backs away respectfully, which I appreciate.

An awkward silence follows as we're surrounded by the trio and then slowly directed unceremoniously into the cold, shaded depths of the woods.

The air smells cleaner in here, partly because we're getting more and more distanced from the zombie corpses, and partly because the forest is filled with tall pines. In better circumstances, it'd be a nice place to walk in. There was a park not far from my old flat in London, only about a five minutes' walk, that reminds me of this now. I wasn't exactly the go-outside type but sometimes it was a nice place to visit after picking up a coffee before class, just to wander around in and be alone in your thoughts. I've always had a very loud mind, something I sometimes have difficulty containing when so many thoughts are running wild.

Like right now. I'm keeping in step with the group, but there is a definite vibe of unease as we plod along, following Mark who is moving along at quite a brisk pace, several steps ahead of the rest of us. If we're going to be stuck with these guys until the three of us think of an excuse or an escape plan, the best thing in my mind for handling this situation is breaking the ice a little bit. They're not bad people, they're just uncertain, like we are.

I want them to think of us as friends. Actually,_ friends_ might be too strong of a word for this possibility and maybe not entirely achievable, so maybe the word_ allies _might fit a little better. Whatever the case, I know Dan and Cat are probably not going to speak up, so really the only way things will progress at all here is if I put in the effort and do something about it. So without really thinking about it, my talkative mind takes over and I blurt the first question the comes into my head with little regard for what might result as a consequence of it:

"This would all be a little easier if you didn't make us feel like we're being taken prisoner. What're your names, again, anyway? I already gave you ours."

The blond guy starts at the statement, visually jerking at the sound of my voice. He was obviously not expecting to be addressed, and as I probably should have expected, Mark hasn't reacted at all.

But the other guy has, and once he's processed my words he smiles at me, sliding his hands into his jean pockets and observing me thoughtfully, eyes full of interest. Dan looks at me like I've gone mad, averting his eyes the minute the man opens his mouth to reply. I know he thinks I'm crazy, but I don't think I could stand this walk if it was uncomfortable and quiet. I want to learn more about these people- who they are and how they got out here. Why they're all alone, just their little group. It fascinates me.

"My name's Felix." the guy says, and I nod. This is good, having a name to put to the face. I usually forget names pretty quickly but in this case, I don't think these ones are going anywhere. He proceeds to point to Mark and the girl and I listen with interest, surprised at how easy Felix is to talk to. "Mr. Nice guy over there, that's Mark, and that-" he looks at the girl affectionately, and she smiles back, and I think I know what he's going to say. "-is Marzia, my girlfriend." he concludes.

She glances over at me somewhat shyly, offering a careful smile which I reciprocate, meeting the dark brown eyes with more confidence now. So they _are_ a couple, I should have known by the way he looked at her. It's hard to mistaken love when someone wears it so casually on their features. It's like trying to ignore the sun, it's so obvious.

I widen my eyes in interest, trying not to waver upon hearing Dan sigh unhappily next to me. He's not enjoying this at all, is probably cursing me for even trying with these guys that he doesn't trust an inch. But I'm in too deep now and besides, this bit of information is interesting. This is something I really do want to hear.

"Oh, you two are together then!" I exclaim, unable to hide my enthusiasm. "That's really nice, how did you meet?"

Felix's eyes soften instantly, and I realize I've touched on something he loves to talk about. I bet the story of how he met his girlfriend is one of the happiest in his life, and I feel a touch of sadness and longing as I realize there's a lot I would do to experience the same. His face lights up as he thinks back on the memory, and he looks at her when he speaks, she's the subject of the tale.

"Marzia and I met over the internet, actually. She used to live in Italy and I lived in Sweden, so it was a long time before we ever got to meet each other in real life. We used to make little videos for each other or talk for hours on Skype, until I saved up enough money working at a hot dog stand to go see her."

_Over the internet._ My heart skips a beat, a sharp but pleasant jolt as I think about how them and I have this in common. I found my best friend online too, and I smile despite myself because I know this as a fact and I'm bursting to say it. I know the feeling of wanting to see someone so badly it causes a physical pain in your chest, when Skype calls over long distance just isn't enough anymore. I know it so well.

My sudden happy expression seems to please them and they continue, speaking with more energy and vigor now.

"It's so cheesy," Marzia laughs, looking right at me now with no trace of awkwardness. "But I remember the first time I ever saw him, it was like my heart completely dropped into my stomach. It's the most amazing thing, seeing someone you've only ever known through a screen, completely real in front of you."

Outwardly, I can only nod, the only sound I'm able to muster being a noncommittal "Mm," in agreement, while internally, I've exploded.

It makes me think of another day, in late October nearly two years before.

_I'm sprinting in a crowded train station in Manchester, darting around cranky old ladies and disapproving businessmen, struggling to make it to the glass door through which I see a single train pulling in next to the platform, arriving all the way from Reading Station. _

_Normally, I'd be self-conscious about pushing so rudely by people like I am, but this train is carrying someone I have never seen before in real life, someone I've only seen through a pixellated webcam and have wanted to see more than anything else in the world. I push through a crowd of conversing women, seeing the doors open and people of all shapes and sizes beginning to disembark, looking for that one face, the one who's come all this way. I recall the hammering of my heart, seeing several that are similar and feeling it jump every time I expect it to be the one. But I know very quickly when it isn't, and so it goes back to nervously thudding, an anxious pace that almost makes me laugh out loud, just to ease the tension._

_And I know right away that it's him when I see him. _

Like Marzia, my heart dropped straight into my stomach. It unreal, seeing him look around nervously at first, scanning unfamiliar heads uncertainly until his gaze landed on my untidy black-haired one and his eyes widened.

He was taller in real life, skinnier than I thought, his skin perfect and his hair immaculate, all straightened and shiny. Every brown strand had clearly been styled with care, making me realize maybe I hadn't been the only one who'd been preparing obsessively for this moment.

He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I laughed when his face lit up in the widest smile I'd ever seen him wear. He walked slowly and dignified off the platform but I knew he couldn't contain his excitement anymore than I could as we closed that distance, shouting out in greeting before I stumbled over and threw my arms around his smaller form, feeling him giggle as I hugged him tight.

He was everything I'd ever thought he'd be and more.That was the first time I ever saw him in real life, the day I properly fell in love with him even if I didn't know it then. I could feel him, take in what he smelled like and smile into his shoulder for the first time. I never wanted to let him go again and not have this.

I'm shaken out of my thoughts as Dan of all people suddenly speaks up, unable to stop himself from adding to this even though his mind is fighting every inch of his efforts.

My heart is fluttering in a funny way and I hope to God nobody notices, I don't know how I'd explain it.

"Funny that you say that, actually." he muses quietly, making Marzia peers at him with interest, wanting to hear the most unwilling member of our party speak with something relatable to say.

"Phil and I- we met over the internet too."

Felix looks at me with a whole new interest. Though this is apparently all Dan has to say my face nonetheless blooms into a furious blush as he recalls the memory I look back on so fondly, feeling weirdly gratified by being tied to his happy recollection.

The look Felix is giving me is far to contemplative for my liking and Dan has gone back to looking at his shoes as he walks, so I'm left with my cheeks feeling hot and my mind reeling, trying to think of how to redirect this conversation. I'm so flustered though, every useful thought I have fluttering away as I begin to question if talking really was the best choice after all.

So I look down at my own shoes, nearly stumbling over a tree root embedded in the dirt but catching myself a second before disaster, following Mark as he pushes through brush and long grass, obviously knowing exactly where he's going while I'm feeling completely lost. I smell wood smoke now, indicating the camp in question is probably getting near.

"So, Cat" I hear Felix venture suddenly. I almost jump, relaxing a little when I realize he's not thinking about me anymore and has moved on to questioning my friend. "I'd hate to sound rude or anything but your eyes are kind of... unusual. And you look different? I don't know, are you like... are you a..?"

He sounds so awkward I don't know whether to laugh or feel bad for the guy, but I know Cat is capable and she can handle herself. She laughs and begins to slowly explain to him that she's kind of a zombie, and to tell him the story of when she was bitten. I've heard it so many times that I just sort of tune out, comfortable to let them talk and leave me out of it.

"What, awe-inducingly gorgeous?" She quips. "Too pale for this good earth? Or are you referring to the fact that I'm, I don't know, a _zombie_?"

My mouth drops open at how blunt she is about it, and she starts laughing all over again. Marzia looks uncertain butI shake my head, knowing what's coming.

"All of them at once, I guess?" He ends up squeaking and she snorts, glad to get the best of the jerk who pointed a gun at her, probably.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I am, though I think half-zombie might be a better term." She says like she's talking about her hair colour or something. "I got bitten way back in the early days and passed out as everyone does after a bite, and when I woke up, I found that I can still think as clearly as I did before. The only difference is that my vision now sort of sucks and I can't feel pain, or warmth, or much if anything really. I'm also never really hungry and I don't sleep, which kinda sucks but at the same time is kinda cool. I'm like the guardian angel of these two dorks over here," she chuckles, sweeping her hands in a gesture to indicate both Dan and l.

I guess objectively she didn't technically  _survive_ the experience, seeing how she's undead and invulnerable now, but she's isn't exactly dead either. She's sentient and otherwise human, and I honestly still say that this is the probably most interesting thing I've ever heard of in all my time in this apocalypse. It's hilarious seeing someone else react to the notion for the first time. I wonder if I'd gaped in such a dumb way too.

"Zombies don't normally attack me because I'm one of them so Dana md Phil here use me to scope out all the nearby areas since I can walk right through the crowds and check for good stuff. Or danger. Whatever."

"I know what you're thinking," she adds, clearly expecting a question we'd had at one point too, "Ya girl is not immune, I can't tell you how it works."

Dan glances at me and I raise my eyebrows. At least one of us is enjoying themselves.

"I have no idea how I'm not a crazy flesh-eating monster, I'm just not. Cool, huh?" She grins playfully and flips around, facing Mark's back, seemingly in a better mood now.

'Pretty cool," Felix gets out after a pause, sounding dumbstruck. Marzia makes a sound of agreement. 

I drift back into my thought train with better filtering this time, keeping thoughts of stations and trains and unhealthy heartbeat speeds safely to the side. Whatever I feel for Dan, I can't let it take over my mind and turn me into a blushing idiot every time he talks about me, and so I resolve to be much more careful, and settle instead into contemplating the group we've had the fortune, or misfortune, of meeting. Felix and Marzia, despite putting up a rough front at first are surprisingly likeable people, very clear about their love for each other and very kind towards us.

They'd even encouraged Dan, who had threatened Mark when he threatened me and had openly expressed how little involvement he wanted with any of them. And conversing with Cat, when they were in no way obligated to. It makes me wonder how they could have ever teamed up with Mark, who seems so angry and unfriendly. They just don't match up. But then again, do we?

I wonder what they think of us. I'm sure eventually I'll know.

Mark cuts into my thoughts by stopping at a makeshift wooden gate, nailed clumsily together between a line of trees but surprisingly well-built, definitely strong enough to keep out a decent number of zombies. He glares at my sheepish face with no trace of his friends' warmth, though he must have overheard our conversations, it was impossible not to.

"We're here." He states drily, looking unimpressed with my feeble attempt at a friendly expression, "Try not to touch anything and make yourself at home, might as well. You're about to meet the fourth member of our group, so try not to make a bad impression."

Dan scoffs, and I see Mark's eyebrows go up challengingly, threatening him without saying a word. l place my hand firmly on his shoulder, squeezing it so he knows I'm serious. He can't let Mark wind him up and he can't fight him, I don't want him hurt. I assume he'll understand this but it only seems to aggravate him more, he just shakes my hand off irritably and whips around to face the other way, avoiding my gaze.

My heart sinks at the rejection, I really didn't want to upset him. It satisfies Mark though, as he rearranges his expression into a smirk, turning on his heel and unlocking the gate, crossing the threshold into the camp.

Felix surprises me by sidestepping and punching Dan lightly in the arm, a friendly, reassuring gesture that assures no harm done. Dan of course responds by leaping away as though he can't escape fast enough from this unwanted touch, an extreme violation in his mind, but that's just Dan. I wouldn't have expected anything else. And luckily, Felix doesn't look offended at all, just mildly bemused.

"Like you're one to talk about bad first impressions, Mark." He shoots at his friend, and I feel calmed somehow, warming towards Felix a bit more. "These guys are all right, I like them. And PJ likes everybody, he's gonna like them too. So get over it and be nice to them already, I know you know how."

Mark rolls his eyes and pushes past Felix with an irritable huff, jerking his hand as an indication to follow him in. We comply, following them into what I immediately deem a considerably nice camp. It's in a large, asymmetrical clearing completely built up on three of four sides with a combination of trees growing out of the ground and miscellaneous junk lashed between them, creating a lumpy, impenetrable wall, the fourth being a tall, naturally occurring stone cliff with an adjoining rock-shelf, where a long roof made of sticks has been woven and sleeping-bag beds placed beneath it. It's a homemade shelter from the elements.

There's a ladder leading up to a small balcony-like structure a little off to the side, using the top of the cliff as a viewing platform of sorts.

"The watchtower" Marzia whispers to me, following my gaze. "We put someone on watch every night to make sure nothing dangerous happens without us knowing."

I nod, appreciating the explanation.

Near the base of the rock, I notice a man sitting comfortably on a log next to a blazing stone firepit, roasting something that is definitely meat. My mouth begins to water as I look uncertainly at the stranger, who has light brown hobbit hair curly enough to rival Dan's and a bright, friendly face, with nice blue-green eyes piercing the brown-green palette of the outdoors. He waves eagerly to his companions as we enter, hardly looking bothered by the three extra bodies stumbling in awkwardly.

"Hey Peej! Come see what the zombies brought us today! They're nice and friendly, Mark's already saying we'll all make great buddies!"

Felix's jaunty shout makes me smile and makes Dan snort dubiously, seeing how being buddies with Mark is far from happening anytime soon. I'm not sure what to make of this situation and I default to shuffling nearer to Dan, also reaching out to grip Cat's cold wrist, wanting to keep them both close. PJ shouts an equally cheerful reply and jumps up to meet us, and I smile uneasily, a feat Dan doesn't even attempt.

As Mark stalks away and Felix and Marzia gesture us eagerly forward I only wonder one thing:

What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! (cozydnp)


	5. worth it

_I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you_  
_But not as much as I do._  
_-_Fall Out Boy, _The Last of the Real Ones_

**Phil**

"Well hello there, who might you guys be?"

PJ's tone is friendly and he practically glides over to us, his movements so relaxed and comfortable that he must either be completely oblivious to the unease between us and our captors or an exceptionally good actor. He has a wide, toothy smile, his eyebrows raising in a good-natured way as if he thinks we're just the latest edition to their happy group of friends.

He holds out his hand to Dan first, presumably to shake, but he's met with no response other than Dan giving him a blank look, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. His grin shifts minutely into one of more unease, not expecting such a stiff response.

"What's the matter?" He asks, voice still friendly. "Mark didn't do anything stupid before I've even gotten the chance to see you, did he?"

Mark stiffens but to my surprise doesn't retort, watching PJ warily as he meets my eyes next, gesturing to his friends.

"I knew I should have joined them when we heard all those noises." He tells me. "Instead I stayed back to roast the bird meat. Not the best decision I've ever made."

He's still met with silence, and I'm not sure how to explain to him that we're here against our will, especially with Mark hovering menacingly behind him only a few feet away. He'll hear anything we say and I'm not entirely sure if I want him to react to it. I'm still uncomfortable because he threatened us so harshly back in town, and it scares me knowing that he has complete power over mine and my friends' lives right now.

He could hurt Dan if he wanted to. Really, he could use either of my friends as a tool against me, should he turn out to be that kind of sick person. It's blatantly obvious that he doesn't like us. Or trust us, for that matter. I certainly don't trust him, and no amount of friendliness from his counterparts is going to remove that fact from our lives.

Felix shifts awkwardly next to us and PJ glances over at him, a confused expression fading the smile on his face and replacing it with the ghost of a frown. He looks in turn at each of his friends, as if demanding an explanation.

"All right guys, what's going on here? " He demands, throwing his hands out to the side in exasperation. "who are these people, and what did you do to them? They look like they want nothing more than get away from us. Did you hurt someone?"

"It's not like that, Peej," Felix breaks in, sounding nervous. "We don't wanna hurt them, we found them surrounded by zombies in the backyard of that old farmhouse, saved their sorry asses from the ones that were left and Mark thought there might be trouble, so we opted to bring them here just in case they couldn't be trusted. But they're cool, I swear, Phil and Dan met on the internet the same way Marzia and I did, it's really interesting, like-"

"So basically," PJ interrupts his tone mildly irritated now, " you've taken them _prisoner,_"

"ah, well... I wouldn't say 'prisoner', per se" Felix stutters.

"Depends on who you ask." Dan murmurs sarcastically, and PJ looks at him, startled.

I like Felix all right, but I'm staying silent with Dan and Cat because despite being good people, he and his girlfriend still helped in forcing us to be here. I don't plan to help him explain this at all.

Mark, who's been silently sulking out of this so far suddenly springs to attention, eyes blazing as he whips around to glare at Dan. PJ lets out a small sound of alarm as he's shoved aside, and Mark storms up to Dan, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and yanking him down so that their faces are level.

"Well, nobody asked you." he growls.

Dan glares back and I tense, wanting to punch this guy whose fist is hovering near my best friend's face.

"If you ask _me_," Mark mutters, "this is how I see it: a pair of gay guys and a freak zombie friend nearly kill everyone within a two mile radius by attracting an entire town's worth of zombies. Instead of taking off, they conveniently converge right where the path leads to our camp, behind the farmhouse just looking, apparently, 'for supplies.' Supplies in a picked-clean, zombie-infested town."

He glances around like he's waiting to be countered but I bite my tongue, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Sound familiar?" He asks. "It's you guys. Why would anyone do that? You just so happened to be in the same location as our camp, surely it wasn't because you were leading all the zombies to our area so you could they could kill us and you could take our stuff. Not like that's something you've probably done before. Oldest trick in the book, and you seem like just the type. I'm sorry friend, but I call bullshit."

Dan's face blazes red at this, I have to lower my eyes. I can't even look at anyone right now. This is ridiculous. Not only is that whole idea completely false, every aspect of it has been blown completely out of proportion _and_ he just made a massive assumption. I don't even want to think about it, and I don't blame Dan for ignoring it completely.

Dan does however lunge forward, his hands colliding with Mark's chest and forcing him to take a few steps back, looking positively livid.

"Mark," PJ warns, "drop it."

But a fight seems inevitable, because Dan looks about as ready to drop it as Mark does.

Dan's almost a full head taller than Mark but undoubtedly smaller otherwise; Mark is solidly built, muscles rippling in his arms and in his chest, and he's standing his ground with no trace of intimidation. Dan's oversized hoodie hangs on narrow shoulders, emphasizing his teenage boy frame like another demonstration of this contrast. He's standing confident and tense, but I can't help but notice how small he looks in comparison.

"No." Dan snaps, threatening danger in every syllable. "You're wrong. We don't want anything to do with you or your fucking camp. We wanted to get home and you went and pointed a gun at Phil's head. We don't need your permission to be in an abandoned town. You don't _own_ this place."

I've never seen him like this, it's unsettling. Now that he's gotten started there's no stopping the words that pour impulsively out of his mouth, his fingers curling tightly into fists. PJ and Felix's glances flicker to Mark, looking prepared to restrain him if Dan doesn't shut up. They know Mark in the same way I know Dan, watching his body language.

"Is that why there's no other people around here?" Dan prods. "Did you kill them too, before even bothering to find out who they are? Who's next, gonna murder your friends when you don't get your way? You must not know how to handle yourself very well."

"You know what, _forget_ it!" Mark shouts, yanking out his gun with eyes full of hate. He pulls it back in one lightning quick motion, directing the barrel directly between Dan's eyes before I can even think. My heart drops and I gasp in fear for him, not daring to move.

"Mark!" PJ shouts, attempting to push his arm down unsuccessfully as Marzia starts speed-talking, trying to calm him down as his shoulders heave up and down with an unreasonable volume of anger that has him visibly shaking.

"Go on then, shoot me!" Dan shouts, making me panic, wanting to dive in front of him, but I can't make a move, Mark's so tense a single movement could trigger him to shoot.

Dan's gazing at the lethal weapon, one angry finger pull away from the irreversible action that would result in his death. He's still glaring defiantly but I can tell he's terrified, he's biting his lip and the stress lines in his face are back, the ones I hate to see.

"I don't have to deal with this!" Mark snaps. "Say one more thing, kid, I dare you. I don't need much more persuasion to blow your head off. One more word, anything, and you're dead."

His expression is wild, his anger obscuring his good features.

"Your friends don't need you here anyway." He snarls, tone biting. "If anything, your loud mouth and emotionless act will just kill all of you one day. Nobody wants to stick around with a guy who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. They're better off without you."

My heart drops just as Dan's eyes widen, expression falling as if he's just been smacked across the face. The words sit in the air as cutting and sharp as a blade, irreversible.

"There is no need for that!" PJ snaps, his voice level but also forceful. He yanks Mark's hand down with both of his, so the gun is now aimed at the dirt, glaring at his friend intently.

Mark doesn't resist, just throws a corrosive look at Dan before slapping his friend's hands off his arm and storming off, pushing Felix roughly to the side and reopening the gate, swinging it forward with one hand. He moves to reenter the woods, his gun still loaded and ready. He turns and looks over his shoulder, addressing his friend.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." he growls, "We can't trust them. They're only gonna get us killed. I can tell you that right now. Be nice to them all you want, you wait and see."

He whips around and slams the gate shut, forcibly enough that dust flies free and the hinge bangs audibly, making us wince. He doesn't even look back as he strides off, my heart pounding until he's disappeared from sight.

I breathe a sigh of relief, now that the danger is retreating. He didn't kill Dan, but he must really want to. After seeing a gun pointed that close to Dan's head, I'm just relieved he's alive.

"Mark!" PJ shouts at the gate, now slightly angry. "The sun's almost down! Do you really want to be out at night?!"

He's answered only with silence.

"Bloody idiot." PJ mutters, folding his arms and staring irritably at where Mark vanished. He turns slowly to gaze back at us, a frown creasing his face.

"He's gonna go off to clear his head and not show up back here until eight a.m. tomorrow morning." He sighs. "Just you wait, It'll be the death of him one of these days. I can't even begin to apologize for how he's treated you, I swear he's not normally like this."

I raise my eyebrows disbelievingly at him, finding the latter statement highly unlikely. I can tell we must look dubious because he turns to his friend for support.

"I'm serious!" He protests. "Felix, back me up here, Mark's alright, honestly, yeah?"

Felix laughs, clapping a hand on my back reassuringly. I don't lurch away like Dan did but I still tense at his touch given that Mark's actions have made me trust them a lot less, seeing how they all live together. Don't people who live together usually behave in a similar manner? I don't know, but I'm a little leery about them all the same.

"Nah, he's kind of a dick all the time, " Felix replies lightly. "But it's an endearing quality that comes with his personality. He has a huge heart beneath all the snapping and frowning, he's just been through a lot. More than any of our group, I think."

His tone trails off seriously as he thinks about it, apparently lost in thought.

"We probably shouldn't talk about it." Marzia suggests, voice soft. "They don't need to hear any of that after all we put them through. I'll get dinner going. Would you like to help me, Cat?"

Cat raises her eyebrows in surprise, letting the ghost of a smile creep onto her face. I feel like she was expecting to be ignored, seeing how she's been the least problematic out of the three of us.

"Sure, I guess," she answers, and Marzia grins, tentatively taking her by the arm and leading her over to the firepit where PJ abandoned the meal. They start talking quitely about something I can't hear, and I realize it's probably the first time either has conversed with another girl in a long, long time. Cat quickly starts to look increasingly relaxed as the conversation continues, and I realize what a weight off my shoulders it is seeing her so genuinely happy and comfortable.

They start to poke some vegetables that must have been laid over the coals earlier and my stomach rumbles, trying to recall the last thing I ate. It was a while ago, I know that much, and I force myself to look away, focusing on the people left.

"So," PJ starts, addressing Dan and I after the silence stretches on a bit,"We're not forcing you to stay, but it's dangerous out there when it's dark, so you should least stay the night."

We must look dubious because he points at an overhang a small distance away, raising his eyebrows.

"We've got loads of bedding you can borrow, just tuck them wherever you want to sleep and maybe check for spiders. Don't know if that bothers you but I hate them, personally." He smiles uncertainly and Dan lowers his head, averting his gaze.

I reach out my hand and gently place it on Dan's shoulder but he just shrugs it off, causing my features to flicker with hurt even though I know it's not me that's bothering him. His expression is hard, impossible to decipher.

PJ's kindness seems genuine and I find it hard to dislike him, impossible even. We've just outwardly offended Mark and refused extended hospitality and yet he's still being nice, offering food and bedding and even cracking jokes, trying to ease the tension. I don't want to get close, really, and I definitely don't want to stay after tonight, but he's trying so hard that I just can't ignore him, my 'angelic' tendency making its reappearance once again. I try to swallow my pride, extending my hand to PJ, trying my best at a smile.

"I think I might take you up on that. Thanks a lot, I appreciate it."

PJ takes my hand and the smile he gives me is kind, out of place after what just happened. I realize he's been kind to both my friends so far, tacking on another gratitude to my sentence.

"_We_ appreciate it." I add as an afterthought, nodding to Dan who only shrugs. "I'm Phil, by the way. Phil Lester. This is my best mate, Dan Howell."

He takes my hand and shakes it, solidifying a tentative new relationship. He turns and extends his hand to Dan, who surprises me by actually looking up and taking it, shaking firmly and turning up the corner of his lips briefly. Not quite a friend yet, more of an ally, but something nonetheless.

That's good. We could use an ally.

He nods appreciatively at the mention of our names, looking me fully in the eye for the first time.

"Dan and Phil," he murmurs, tasting the words in this ordered way.

There's something nice in the way he's linked our names together, as if he sees us not as separate acts but as a functional, conjoined unit. I like being associated with Dan in this way, even if Mark's assumption is still ringing uncomfortably in the back of my mind. Phil and Dan. Dan and Phil. Somehow, it makes me like PJ even more, and I drop all pretense and let a soft laugh escape me, taking Felix and PJ pleasantly by surprise.

"It's nice to informally meet you I guess, even if we got off to a um, somewhat rough start." I blurt. "Cat sure looks happy to have Marzia to hang out with, makes me wonder if sticking around might not be such a stupid idea after all."

The words have already left my mouth and Dan looks at me like I'm nuts, but I as I repeat the words back in my head I realize that I think I really do mean them. Maybe it's the likeability of everyone who's not Mark, maybe I'm just exhausted and the smell of cooked food is irresistibly alluring. Whatever the case, I feel safe here, with all these walls and the gate. All my necessary possessions are tucked safely in the backpack on my back, going back to the barn won't even be necessary unless I want our tarp or our one cooking pot. They have bedding here, a hole-free roof to settle under and better weapons than what we've amassed. And Cat's happy. It's crazy, but I'm suddenly legitimately considering it. Felix looks relieved, lifting his brows in a pleased expression.

"One condition though," I add as an afterthought, and it's amusing how quickly their faces morph into worry, as if I'm about to order them to throw Mark to a horde or something.

"What would that be?" PJ replies good-naturedly, looking nervous.

I smile to show that I'm half joking, though my intentions are serious.

"No more guns pointed at our heads. My best mates are all I have in the world. Would appreciate keeping them safe and alive, please."

Felix shifts uncomfortably, recalling his past actions, but I'm not really mad at him. He was just afraid like us, and he actually made the effort to do the opposite every time after. Not like a certain friend I could mention. He composes himself and chuckles, gazing at me approvingly. He too reaches out his hand to shake and I take it, noticing for the first time how friendly his eyes are; clear, grey-blue and playful, like there's always a smile hiding just behind his every word. I bet he's a great friend to share a joke with, the kind that if he were a guy in your uni dorm you'd have him over to play a video game, hanging out fun and simple. He shakes with an energetic vigor, responding with a promise:

"Once and never again, buddy. From now on, let's help each other out."

I grin, pushing a stray bit of black hair out of my eyes. "Sounds good. I'd rather be on your side anyway. Seems like the other side wouldn't stand a chance, seeing as you took out that whole zombie horde and caught us off guard, too. I'll admit it, I'm impressed."

PJ laughs and Felix punches my arm affectionately, an awkwardness dissolved.

"I like you, Phil Lester." he states and then pokes Dan, who whips his head up incredulously, as if he can't believe the nerve of this guy. "And you, Danny, I like you too. I think we'll be buddies eventually. Just you wait."

Dan mutters something along the lines of "don't call me Danny" and turns away with an annoyed huff but Felix doesn't seem bothered. I grin as I imagine him determinedly trying force his niceness on Dan. It's the kind of thing Dan needs, he's not easy to get close to. I of all people know that.

"The bedding stuff's under the overhang, all in a pile. Just take what you want." PJ says, then walks off, Felix right alongside him as they go to talk to Marzia and Cat by the fire. "We've looted some good towns for it all!"

I nod even though I know he's not even looking anymore and then touch Dan's arm briefly, watching his gaze flicker up at me but not meeting my eyes. I gesture towards the lean-to roof against the rock wall, indicating where I want to go and he sighs and nods, following me as I skirt around the fire and head towards the vague form that I assume is the bedding pile.

We walk across the campsite in silence, watching the rock wall loom taller and taller as we get closer. The smell of earth washes over me as we enter the cool darkness of the sheltered overhang, squinting as we navigate around squishy premade beds that presumably belong to Felix and his friends, not able to see much in the dying daylight.

The bedding pile is mostly blankets, looking like they were salvaged from every decent home in the town. I pick a thicker down comforter as my mattress and a duvet with bright green and blue squares as the blanket, it reminds me of the one I owned back home in London. There aren't any pillows, but seeing how I haven't used one of those in nearly a year, it doesn't particularly bother me. Dan yanks up two at random, a black one and a thick quilted grey one, with so much spite you'd have thought the blankets had done him a serious wrong. That's when I realize how upset he is.

Once we exit from beneath the roof and back into the clearing, blankets in tow, he walks slowly enough that I know I'm allowed to keep up, but he won't let me fall in right beside him and he's avoiding my gaze, holding the blankets up intentionally high to block his face. I'm persistent though, plodding along just behind him until he stops below a large willow at the edge of the clearing, laying the blankets down at the base of the trunk.

I do the same, making sure to leave a good space between where my bed is placed and where his is, frowning slightly as he throws himself down with his back against the trunk, letting his head bang roughly against the bark. His face is downcast and his brows are tightly creased, and I wonder what's going on inside his head. I don't dare reach out my hand and touch him even though my entire body is aching to, but I do let a concerned question slip through, even as he goes to block me out.

"Dan, are you okay?" I ask softly, feeling uneasy about how closed off he is even though to most people this facade is perfectly normal.

He doesn't say anything at first, just shrugs.

"Dan."

He takes his time answering, leaving me hanging on purpose and making a show of slowly turning to answer me.

"I'm fine." He huffs eventually, eyes fixed on his fidgeting fingers. "I'm just fine. Fantastic actually, Thanks for checking up on me."

His tone is cold and abrupt as he turns away with finality, causing me to sigh. He's using the _fine _word, and I know already that this won't be easy. I let out a puff of air, not giving in that easily.

"I know you better than that, mate." I insist, still keeping a foot-wide gap between us but letting my words do the work, noticing vaguely that the sun has gone down. The stars shine above as bright and beautiful as a thousand glittering diamonds, the smell of the clean nighttime air mixed with delicious cooking food somehow giving me the energy to plod on, all the glowing flavescent hues like watchful eyes, a witness to all we do here on earth. The willow's leaves rustle gently, clearing my head as I shift my focus onto one of the most prevalent problems.

"It's not what Mark said to you, is it?" I risk, watching carefully to gauge his reaction. "You were right about everything you told him, Cat and I aren't about to let him shoot anybody, anyway. You were just standing up for yourself and for us."

He shakes his head, pressing his palms against his eyelids irritably. He slides them slowly down his face, sighing softly and taking his time answering. I'm completely baffled, feeling tense with this unpleasant mood.

I hate when he refuses to tell me things, bottling up his stress inside instead of letting others help bear the weight, it's all internalized and it stays like that until he breaks, sending it all spilling out in an angry, broken mess. I want him to tell me. Otherwise, how will I ever be able to make him better? My patience is wearing thin but I have to keep a level tone or he'll completely close me out, snapping shut like a clam.

"Well?" I demand, staring at him purposefully, then wishing I hadn't as I see how attractive he looks in the moonlight.

Sitting with his back against the tree and his head resting on his closed fist, curly hair spilling down over his forehead, he's beautiful in an unconscious way. It's hugely distracting, I force myself to focus, trying to cling to my irritation so as to get something out of him.

"What is it, then? You're not fine, so stop pretending to be." I order. "You're obviously thinking about _something, _so stop acting like I'm ignorant and have no idea what you-"

He whips around to stare straight at me, eyes blazing, and I stutter as I try to maintain a steady train of thought. His eyes are look so dark in the twilight, two big pools enclosed by thick lashes, and I'm forgetting how to speak, my words spilling out in a jumble.

"I don't like to see you so, uh... unhappy?"

He frowns at me unimpressed but I don't think I imagine his expression softening minutely. I feel a little burst of relief until he starts speaking, and then I'm worried again.

"Well alright. You're right." he snaps, catching me off guard. "I'm not fine. But who cares what I'm feeling, food and blankets definitely make up for how disposable I am, right?!"

I blink, staring at him confusedly and wondering where the hell this came from.

"What?! What do you mean?" I squeak, taken aback by his harsh tone.

"Hm, I don't know, Phil. Are you actually starting to feel comfortable here? That's interesting, considering these lovely people almost shot you right through the head this morning without even offering a chance of mercy." He blurts, his words pouring out in a rush.

I gape at him, abruptly up to speed on how he's feeling. Before I can even react though, he's plodding on.

"Maybe you're fine with an apology and a shake of the hand but I'm not. It doesn't cancel out the fact that their friend is psychotic, and that at one point, they were willing to do anything to us imaginable under the pretense that we_ might_ have been plotting to kill them. You're too trusting, it's going to kill you one day."

I stare incredulously at him with wide eyes, completely stung by what he's implying. "They promised they'd keep control of Mark," I say quietly, though it's getting increasingly difficult to keep my voice level, "and Cat's so happy with another girl to talk to, I just feel safe here."

"Well I don't!" he snaps, his voice rising harshly. " I don't feel welcome here and I can see how nervous I make everybody. They all treat me like I'm some asshole that doesn't know to keep a friend, they just tolerate me because of you!"

He glares into me with such ferocity that I suddenly feel defensive, voice rising a little in defence.

"Well it doesn't hurt to be friendly with them!" I protest, feeling my cheeks get hot. "They're making up for earlier, offering us good shelter and cooked food, and besides, they're probably good allies to have, if you'd just see past your own anger! PJ's actually nice and Felix and Marzia are like you and me, the same sort of story. Do you care about any of that at all?"

"Did you even hear what Mark said?" He hisses, and I just stare coldly, waiting for him to tell me.

"He said, 'They're better off without you.' " he chokes. "Like I'm a liability. Like I-I.." his voice breaks off and I realize with a jolt that there's tears in his eyes. He swipes viciously at them, angrily, but his voice is pitching unsteadily and suddenly it's obvious that he isn't really mad at me.

"-like I'm going to cause only problems for you. You don't need me. I'm better off dead."

My jaw drops as the realization hits me. I'd been so preoccupied with worrying about whether or not Mark was going to shoot Dan, I hardly took in any of the things the guy had said. It had bounced off of me as a lot of anger-fueled yelling, I'd never even stopped to consider that Dan might take any of his words to heart.

"Holy shit, Dan..." I gasp, all anger dissolving instantly. How could he believe any of that? It was all aggression-fueled yelling. How can he not realize he means the entire world to me, that I think so highly of him? I'm speechless, completely at a loss for what to say at this revelation.

"I'm glad you're happy," he says roughly, and I'm worried by how unsteady he sounds. "Because if Mark or something else kills me, at least I'll know it's doing you and Cat a favor. It's my fault all those zombies came this morning, my fault you came this close to death. It's sad when even a stranger can figure out how pathetically useless I am. You _are_ better off without me." The tears finally escape, sliding down his cheeks as he gives up trying to hide them from me. His narrow shoulders shake as he presses his hands to his face, but they just keep on coming, months of built-up stress finally emerging from the dark void he buries it in.

It feels strange, almost wrong; this is not the strong and steady Dan that I know. And it's worse because he isn't getting all worked up about the actions of someone else, he's angry at _himself._

I give up, forgetting about my anger and forgetting about boundaries. It's dark over here, under this tree, and the long, flowy branches obscure us from sight anyway. Everyone's preoccupied with making dinner, they aren't going to bother us. It's good for him to cry, I've only seen him do it a couple times in our two years of knowing each other offline, because he's such an emotionally closed-off person. He feels weak letting people see him vulnerable, and I'm sure he hates it now. But this is something way beyond his control, and it's my job to give him something to hold on to. So I bridge the gap between us, knocking into him slightly too hard because of how clumsy I am and pulling him into me by his shoulders. He resists furiously until his head hits my chest, and then suddenly he goes limp, sniffing into the fabric of my sweater and curling into a ball, as I wrap my arms protectively around him and rest my chin on the top of his head. I squeeze him gently, feeling his soft curls brushing close to my lips.

"Don't ever believe for one second that you don't matter to me or to Cat." I whisper, feeling him shiver weakly against my chest. "You and I, we survived together, right from the very beginning. Without you, I wouldn't be alive. I wouldn't have been willing to do any of this on my own. You matter to me more than anyone else in the world, and _nothing_" I emphasize the last word, speaking determinedly as I glare up at the sky, angry at this world for reducing the strongest person I know to the lowest he can be, forcing him to fight for any bit of happiness when he deserves nothing but. "Will ever change that. You're a fighter, you're incredible, Dan. Don't believe anything Mark tells you for one second. He has a whole lot of anger and issues, he's just choosing an awful way to direct it."

He's quiet for a while, still sniffing occasionally and wiping tears on his sleeve, breathing harshly but not out of self-hate as much. It's all been building up, it wouldn't have taken much more to push him over the edge. I relish the warm feeling of him curled against my side, glad that I can make him feel better when things are definitely not okay. He sighs, swiping at his face again and then settling his cheek against my right shoulder, looking down at his hands.

"I know I'm gonna have nightmares tonight," he says quietly, and my heart hurts at how resigned he sounds. "I've been having them all my life, but they've been really bad recently, and they just keep getting worse." I take a deep breath, pulling him in to hug him closely again, wishing I could do more.

"Don't get so worked up right before you go to sleep." I say gently, poking his cheek with my finger and prodding a smile to reveal the dimple. "Try to relax a bit, have some dinner. Lie still for a little while before you drift off, and think of the list of things that make you happy. It's what I do, and sometimes it really helps."

He chuckles softly, not an entirely happy sound, but he is smiling into my sweater, so he must be feeling okay. "That's a pretty short list," he huffs, and I try not to correct him with some speech that he'll hate, reminding him there's lots to be grateful for. "If I had to write it out there'd only be like three things on it. There's not a lot of good out there." I roll my eyes, wishing I could blast him with optimism, but I know it won't work.

"Okay," I say irritably, shifting to a more comfortable position, "so what would those three things be? A short list is better than no list."

He hums quietly to himself for a moment, thinking about it in detail. "You know," he says suddenly, his voice slightly teasing, "it's really irritating when you poke my cheek. I didn't ask to have to have a dimple, I'd get it removed if I could so you'd stop impaling me."

"Shut up!" I exclaim, poking him again. "Just tell me what _is_ on your list. You said three things, I want to hear three."

"Leave me alone" he moans, covering his face with both sleeved arms. "This is stupid. It's not gonna make things any better. I'm still useless."

I sigh in frustration, dropping my arms and looking up through the foliage into the sky. "I can't believe you, Dan Howell, are calling yourself useless. It's absolutely ridiculous and not at all true. I won't stand for it. Give me your goddamn happiness list, or I'm gonna poke you again."

"I hate you." He sighs weakly, his voice cracking and devoid of any venom. I slide my own sleeve up to cover my hand and I brush at the corner of his eye, wiping away the last of the tears that he allowed to fall. He's already clammed up slightly, building the wall back up. Nothing I can do about that, there's no cure for strong will. We sit in silence for a while as his breathing evens. Eventually he sits up, lifting himself up off my chest and settling back into a sitting position, and I can't quite contain my disappointment as the moment ends. Then he flops back against the tree trunk, and suddenly his head thumps onto my shoulder, trying to pretend it wasn't purposeful even though he's clearly craving the comfort. He wouldn't dare admit it though.

I still and calm, not daring to acknowledge this rarity other than to shift my shoulder slightly so he can nestle into the dip more comfortably. Eyes on the fire off in the distance where dinner is being prepared on the other end of the clearing, I don't even glance over at him as he speaks up, despite the redoubled speed at which my heart is now beating.

"I literally think I'll only be able to come up with three things. There's not a lot of that makes life worth living in an apocalypse, if you get right down to it." he whispers, and I just humph, since I don't really agree. He accepts this, and goes on talking, not really focused on the conversation anymore.

"One would have to be black clothing. I think that's like ninety percent of the joy in my life. I don't care how much the world goes to shit. I've got to keep up my aesthetic."

I laugh lightly, knowing this is definitely true. He's always been that way. People liked to comment on how opposite we were in appearance back in the day; me with my brightly coloured jumpers and blue eyes and him with his all-black ensembles and chocolate eyes. It's a part of who we were, who we probably still are.

"The second would be the stars. It sounds stupid, but it's so interesting to look up at the night sky and just... ponder. About how infinite the universe is and how insignificant we are in comparison to millions of galaxies. I don't care if it kinda gives me an existential crisis when I think about it too hard, there's always stars no matter where you go in the world. I like that."

Woah, that was deep. But it's not the first time I've heard him say stuff like that. It's like this second part of him that comes out once in a while, the one that articulates and analyzes, coming up with brilliant, in-depth thought strings that leave me speechless, wondering where they came from. I smile quietly to myself as I lean my head very lightly against his, thinking about how I'd have no problem listening to these strings more often.

"The last one..." he sighs, and shifts around for a moment, re-positioning himself to be more comfortable. "Well, if I had to think of one other thing that makes me happy... There isn't a lot of good things in the world, but if I had to say one other thing, I think maybe- Maybe I'd say....you."

My heart flips in my chest and I freeze, wondering if I'd just heard him correctly. He doesn't seem to realize the impact of what he's just said, and I'm just thankful it's dark because the blush that must be taking over my face is probably horrendous. I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out, and I have to try again.

"Did you.. Did you just say m-"

"Philly! Daniel! The bird's ready, come eat!"

Cat's cheerful call interrupts me mid-sentence, and I lose all bravado, unable to ask again. I don't even care that she called me 'Philly', even though that's supposed to be Dan's nickname for me. I'm still so flustered and I leap up, spilling Dan onto the comforters, which he doesn't appreciate. He looks up at me and my heart skips a beat, as I wait for him to say something else, something sweet that backs up what he'd just told me.

Instead he grabs my wrist, helping himself up, then looks me over and says "take off your sweater."

"Wha-?" I ask, still in a daze. What does he mean, take off my-

"Your sweater. It's all wet." He says, and I realize with a little sink of my heart that he wants me to pull off the sweater I have on over my T-shirt, as it's soaked through with tears. He doesn't want anyone to know what just happened, and fair enough. I do it, wanting to spare him as much awkwardness as possible. His eyes are still a little red but in the dark without knowing it's there, it's not likely anyone will notice. It's between me and him.

By the time we make it over to the fire, almost all traces of his short breakdown are all but gone. He accepts a hand-cut wooden plate of food, saying thank you to Cat and Marzia for making it and settling onto the ground a few inches away from me, as we all prepare to eat.

My heart is still beating far too fast for my liking out of disbelief of what had just happened. I mean, Dan had been incredibly emotional when he'd said it, and it's not like he's declared his undying love for me or anything. But it's always been me who's been the giver in this friendship, the one who initiates hugs and goes in for the compliment when it's well-deserved, the one who isn't afraid to cry when everything is just too much. It feels almost like a role-reversal, to hear him express his appreciation for me in such a raw and unplanned way. It makes me feel important, that I'm the one person he can truly trust.

The meal looks amazing by apocalypse standards; a heaping plate of roast bird and fried potatoes with a side of hand-gathered berries. After so long living off of cold canned food and expired crisps, I can hardly contain myself at something fresh and hot. I'm about to take a huge bite when Marzia stands up, having served everyone.

"So guys." She announces, scanning our semicircle to meet each of our eyes, " I was supposed to take watch with Mark tonight, but he's gone, clearly, so I'm on my own tonight. I'm going up now with dinner, anybody wanna do the watch with me so I'm not lonely?"

I expect Felix to jump up, seeing how hours alone with his girlfriend should have been a great incentive to get him up there. But he just sits back, stuffing potatoes in his mouth and saying thickly how he plans on sleeping tonight, for once. She sticks out her tongue, saying "thanks _so _much, Felix," with a jab of sarcasm. PJ doesn't look too eager either, muttering how he took it alone yesterday, staying sitting with his friend. I have to admit I'm not exactly eager to sit that long alone with her, even if it is as nice of a person as Marzia. So even though I feel a little guilty, I don't stand up.

But the one who does stand up, catching me completely off guard, is _Dan._

"I'll go with you, Marzia. if that's okay. I don't sleep well at night anyway. It's just at the top of the ladder, right?" he asks so quiet and tentatively, looking like he's second-guessing himself the moment all eyes turn to him.

I frown, anticipating an uneasy reaction from Marzia after all the coldness earlier._ He's trying to mend things,_ I realize, seeing him smile awkwardly as he waits nervously for her to shun him. But her face breaks into a wide, beautiful smile as her eyes light up, catching him by surprise. "Of course! Thanks, Dan!" she chirps happily, giving him a gentle side hug and jogging over to the ladder, and I watch as he follows warily behind. He'd already bonded with Marzia earlier today, speaking to her about meeting me before he'd even been willing to answer Felix. Maybe she'll be the comfort he needs to ease into this environment, maybe this is the push he needs to be happy here.

I try not to feel too sad watching him climb the ladder, knowing I'll be alone under the willow until the watches switch at midnight, six hours from now. It's not like he's leaving me forever, I can survive a few hours by myself. I'll be asleep anyway. Even if he was there it's not like we'd really be acknowledging each other. I tell myself this as I shovel hot potato slices into my mouth, hearing him say one thing over and over in my head:

_"if I had to think of one other thing that makes me happy... There isn't a lot of good things in the world, but if I had to say one other thing, I think maybe- Maybe I'd say....you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! (cozydnp)
> 
> Also!!! thank you so much to the people who have left such kind comments! They make me so happy :)


	6. the watch

_Hating my past, I found the old me_  
_Bullet proof vest, my only clothing_  
-Oliver Riot, _Alcatraz_

**Marzia**

It's only when I'm about three quarters of the way up the ladder that I realize I didn't think this through.

Dan's keeping a respectful distance away from me, climbing with careful steps and balancing his dinner plate in one hand. He gives a small start as I stop mid-climb, but the expression only lasts for a moment before he's rearranged his face back into an emotionless wall. I can't figure him out. It's like he doesn't want anyone to ever see what he's thinking, and this makes him somewhat difficult to communicate with. I give him a reassuring smile that he probably can't really see in the moonlight, and I might as well have not for all the response I get. I frown slightly and resume climbing, this time with my eyes on the wooden platform.

We built the platform back when we'd first found the clearing for this camp. Mark, Felix, and PJ were all hard at work building the barrier as quickly as they could by neatly stacking the mounds of junk lying everywhere, this place having once been some sort of junkyard or something. 

I was the one who first noticed the rock wall, grown over with moss and supporting a sizeable stack of wooden boards. We'd had trouble in the past with being caught off guard, people or zombies taking over, it was the reason we were forced to move around so much. So in my mind, this was perfect.

By sundown that night we'd dug out a wooden ladder from the debris and used it to climb to the top, laying planks on the elevated surface and fastening them together with rope and nails, naming it "the watchtower." It's only about eight feet square in either direction and it gets a bit cold when there's wind, but it's high up in the air and gives a spectacular view of the surrounding woods. If there's any chance of intruders, it's highly likely that one of us will spot them from here.

We'll be taking the watch for most of the night. Whoever takes the shift typically stays until the moon is touching the tips of the trees, for lack of a clock it's how our group chooses to measure time's passing.

I've only known Dan for a few hours. In this time I haven't learned much, I've mostly gone completely off my own judgement. Normally I try never to do that, but I just don't know with him. The way Phil looks at him you'd have thought he'd hung all of the stars, but all I've seen is a young boy with what seems like the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

He's only spoken directly to me twice; once just now to volunteer to do watch, and once earlier when he'd surprised even himself I think by offering up a piece of his and Phil's life. I feel like he keeps the best parts of himself hidden away, and I wonder vaguely if Phil knows all of them. I understand that feeling, though, I understand it completely.

I think back to my conversation with Felix after the pair had finally walked a safe distance away, far enough away from where he and I were conversing quietly by the fire that we could discuss the day's events. He'd lowered his voice so Cat didn't overhear, muttering under his breath right next to my ear.

"What's with that Dan guy? I can't tell if trusts us or hates us. Way to go, Mark. He's probably contemplating killing us in our sleep now."

I remember I sighed, not too sure of that question myself.

"I think we just need to watch him," I whispered back quickly, glancing over at where Cat was poking at the fire. "He probably doesn't trust any people at all, and it's not like we trust him. I don't know."

"Marzia," he breathed quietly, pressing his shoulder against mine and dropping his voice even more than he had already. "I don't know if you got anything out of watching them but I cant help but wonder," he said quietly, his tone serious. "Do you think him and Phil-I mean, do they seem kind of...you know...to you?"

The question didn't entirely surprise me, I have to admit I wondered some about that after I saw how much Phil seemed to need to stay near to Dan even given the circumstances we'd put them in. But I just shook my head, glancing up to look at them, gathering blankets in the darkness of the overhang. Dan looked tense, and I wondered if the fight had gotten to him more than he'd let on. "Don't ask them about it." I decided, looking at him purposefully. "Not yet."

Back in the present, my hands grasp the last rung and I heave myself upwards, my hands sprawling across the rough grain of the platform. The stars look absolutely brilliant, and I can't help the smile that crosses my face as I shuffle completely onto it, moving to the very edge and letting my legs dangle over the side. I breathe in the cool, fresh air and brush aside some hair that's been caught by the breeze, letting the moonlight wash over me. Behind me Dan slowly clambers up too, settling himself down awkwardly about three feet back, and I don't look back at him but I know he's there, probably sitting cross-legged and stiff, the way he did down by the fire. For a while we just sit in silence, alone in our own thoughts. We let the forest sounds do the talking for us, neither really sure of what to say.

I can tell he's not comfortable but he'd probably sooner sit in dead silence this whole time than speak up first, so initially I try to respect that.

Eventually though, I start to feel the tiniest bit shifty, wanting to engage him somehow so this isn't just long hours of nothing. I don't want him to regret volunteering to help me, and he just seems so _unhappy_. There has to be a way to get to him. I did it by accident once, surely with my mind to it I can do it again.

What do I want to know about him? Maybe I should try looking at him first, to let him know I want to pay attention to him. I wonder when the last time somebody approached him in this way was. He's only received aggression from Mark, his passive personality playing on my friend's short temper. I wonder how many people have backed away early, giving up because he didn't make it easy. I resolve to try harder than that.

I steady myself with one hand and crane my neck to view him in the moonlight. In the dark his features are blurrier, softer, the angry lines not visible and the dark irises of his eyes wide and alert. It strikes me that he has very kind eyes, round with a thick cluster of lashes, too gentle to be full of such anger and stress. He's looking down at his plate and hasn't noticed my gaze yet, and I enjoy the notion that I'm seeing him in such a vulnerable, unconscious way. For the first time since I've met him I fully appreciate our difference in age; he must be almost but not yet twenty whereas I've left my teens years ago. I soften as I imagine what a kid like him must have been through to get this way. He's seen a lot.

"Hey." I venture and he looks up coolly, his gaze making me shy even though I have no reason to be. Eye contact allows me to see look at him properly for the first time and I notice several things; the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose, the way his curls all seem to fall to the left, the way he sits with his hands folded. Everything about him looks soft, making me quietly wonder to myself if Phil has ever taken advantage of that.

The silence stretches on a bit and he raises his eyebrows, wondering what the hell I'm doing, probably.

"How's the food?" I ask, knowing it's kind of lame but thinking I need to begin somewhere. "I don't know if this kind of stuff's your thing, I like to think I can cook a good bird, though."

His eyes drift down to the meal again and then back to me. He takes a long time to answer even this simple question, thinking each word over slowly.

"It's good, thanks." He says quietly, looking at his hands. "It's been a while since I've had anything hot."

Okay, it's a start. At least he's answering me. I'm not sure what I would do if he didn't.

I sit still and quiet again as he continues to eat, only the sound of his breathing and chewing indicating there's anyone there at all. Ten minutes, then fifteen pass, until he's all out of food and has just gone completely silent, until I pluck up the nerve to try again, shifting back to meet his eyes.

"It's gonna be a long night. Let me know if you need anything." I continue, my gaze flitting back too the moon as looking directly at him gets too awkward.

"Look, it's fine if you don't talk to me." he says suddenly, "I know I'm not exactly well-liked around here, don't waste your time."

His abrupt and somewhat downcast response catches me totally off-guard, effectively killing the conversation right as it's begun. It's a little discouraging but I have an idea of where it comes from, he's obviously used to an unwelcome reaction from people and is shifting to a default, cutting off the interaction before it grows into anything that could lead to rejection or worse, acceptance. His eyes have drifted over to the treeline and his head is tilted down and to the side, hugging his knees in an unaware effort to make himself seem smaller. He's trying to tuck himself out of the way, I realize, make himself unnoticeable. But I'm not about to give up on him and I keep at it, much to his annoyance.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come sit by the edge, actually." I continue, my tone a little too friendly but I figure I'll take what I can get. He looks quizzical so I hurry on, desperate to make this work. " I know it's nice sitting in the middle like that but it's really cool to sit freely like this, it's like you're floating in space or something and looking down at the valley." He shakes his head slowly, actually backing up a bit as if to emphasize his discomfort.

"Plus," I add quickly, somewhat expecting this to be challenging, "I want to tell you more about the parts of our group that don't suck. There's much more to us than guns and a red dyed haired angry Mark, and I'd like to tell you some stuff you could share with Phil."

It's the name of his friend, I think, that finally gets his attention. He sighs and puts down his now-empty dinner plate, straightening his back and fully focusing on me, with not much expression in the gaze.

"I don't want to sit near you. We aren't friends, okay?" he says firmly, making sound less of a question and more a command. "Just so you know."

I roll my eyes and half-smile, shuffling over to provide as much sitting room as physically possible, far much more than he'll need. "Absolutely." I agree, "Just come sit, and make sure you let your feet hang down. I swear you'll enjoy it once you do it."

He makes his way over slowly, dubiously, slouching down a decent distance away from me but surprisingly closer than what I thought he'd do, which is settle down at the very opposite end. "I don't enjoy much of anything." he mutters, but even so his feet swing down, and now I can see both of our pairs of sneakers hovering above the brush and treetops. I ignore this last comment and let there be a few seconds of comfortable silence, before beginning to speak carefully once again.

"Our group happened because Felix almost shot PJ and Mark when we were still in Brighton." I tell him, starting off with an explanation of sorts. "We'd run into a dead-end alley and they leaped out at us thinking we were zombies, and I swear the shot at Mark that Felix fired missed him by like half a centimeter. Truly a miracle."

Dan huffs quietly at my launching into a story, but he's making the effort to be listening and fiddles impulsively with his hands. I see Phil wandering out of the circle of firelight and off into the distance, ducking under the hanging branches of the big willow tree. They must have put their bedding under there, I realize, and I quickly think of my own friends who must be settling into bed right now, dinner over. I also think of Mark, who stormed off hours ago and hasn't returned. He's done it before when he's gotten really mad and has proven he knows how to come back alive every time, but it makes me nervous all the same. I risk a quick glance and see Dan is now looking over at the willow too, but I try not to read into it. He probably wishes now that he were there instead of here, but we're in too deep now. I look away.

"You would never have thought that would be a way to make two new friends, but that's how it happened." I continue, bringing him back to my story. "I think we looked each other in the eye for like ten solid seconds before everyone burst out laughing. We were all terrified, there was this moment of 'woah that was close!' and then it was just silently agreed that we'd all become allies." I remember that day all right. We picked up Mark and Peej and then booked it out of the city, dodging monsters left, right, and center. It was the day I ruined my favourite dress, and the day Felix learned that I knew how to fire a gun.

"You guys really like your guns, don't you?" he asks flatly and I nod, feeling one brushed up against me right now where it sits in my pocket. "We weren't gun people before, at least not me and Felix." I tell him quietly, thinking about the truth in this statement and the reality that's attached. "The apocalypse changed us into different people, I think. I don't think Felix even knew I was capable of fighting, he used to make fun of me because I was so girly."

He turns to look at me after I say this, the emotionless façade dropped temporarily to express genuine interest.

"Girly?" he asks, confusion evident in his tone.

I shrug my shoulders, not sure quite how to explain. "You know, the way anyone would consider someone girly. I was under a lot of pressure as a kid to keep up this pretty little lady aesthetic, it's part of the whole born-and-raised-as-an-upperclass-italian thing. I wore dresses and pastel pinks and mastered perfect makeup before I turned twelve. I had to be quiet and do what I was told if I wanted to fit in with the other girls. I was always treated as delicate, dainty, and it pissed me off because no one took me seriously, ever. Not even Felix, though I hate to say that. Even now I still catch him trying to dominate over everything I do, trying to protect me, or do things for me, because he thinks I'm too pretty or too delicate to handle it."

He frowns in disbelief at this, taking in my dirty jeans and my vest and sweater, my tangled hair falling over my shoulder in messy coppery waves. "I don't believe that." He states outright, looking almost offended for me in a way. "You made it pretty clear you can handle yourself fine back at the farmhouse. Kept us in line anyway, and nobody can do that. You even got Felix to make Mark take the gun off Phil, didn't you?" He inquires, and my eyes widen, not realizing he'd ever been aware of that.

"I... well yeah, I did." I answer honestly, surprised he even noticed when his situation at that moment had been such a mess.

"I know he's your friend and everything but I don't want him near us for any reason" He says bluntly, bitterness heavy in his voice. "The next person who threatens to shoot Phil I'll kill personally."

I nod appreciatively which surprises him, but he regains his composure quickly.

"You two must be pretty close," I say as unassumingly as I can, wanting to know more about them but not wanting to scare him off, not when he's still so tentatively replying to me.

"You could say that." he says simply, though I sense I've touched on one of the few things he's actually comfortable talking about. I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't, so I plow on, deciding I have nothing to lose by confiding to him.

"It's weird that you can see these things about me instantly, that I'm more than just a pretty faced skinny girl with a coincidental ownership of a gun. You talk like you believe I can handle myself, when my own boyfriend doesn't even see that."

He shrugs his shoulders, like this should be obvious. "I know a capable person when I see one. And I'm actually all right at reading people, people just don't like me." he replies. He doesn't even sound upset when he says it, his tone is casual, like this is just the way it is and he's well aware.

"I can tell you're pretty tough, " I admit to him, voicing my opinion now that it's existed this long. "Nothing scares you, does it? I don't think I could ever stand up for myself the way I've seen you do, you're what, twenty? And you held your own against Mark, put him right in his place in my opinion. Incredible."

He looks over at me with an entirely new expression on his face, considering me in a contemplative way.

"Nineteen," he says softly, the gentle tone so incredibly out of place coming out of his mouth. "And well, there's a couple things. I'm not heartless. It's not a nice world out there."

I consider this, surprised there's actually something that Dan is afraid of. I bet he has no intention of admitting any of it to someone he still doesn't really know, but I like being able to talk to him despite how rough he is. He accepted the real me without question and doesn't scoff at my confidences, just considers them in his thoughtful, quiet way. How is he only nineteen? He has an older soul than anyone I've ever seen, and I wonder what he thinks about when he's all alone. He's fascinating, so unlike anyone I've met before.

"It's not," I agree quietly, and neither of us need to specify why. We both know. Who doesn't?

"We'll leave it at that I think." he states with finality. "I don't have to explain why."

"This might seem out of the blue," I say suddenly, a thought entering my mind. "But what do you think you'd do if you didn't have Phil? Would you join up with other people? Or would you just work by yourself?" he frowns at the question and I'm worried I've crossed a line, but he just shakes his head, dismissing the inquisition instantly.

"I wouldn't have to think about doing either," he says instantly, words firm and convinced. "Because that would never happen."

"But how can you be so sure?" I press him, amazed he's that optimistic. Who knew?

He's quiet, so I carry on hurriedly.

"That's my biggest fear, that I'll somehow be separated from my friends or one of them will die." I admit, feeling fearful even just saying this aloud. "It scares me more than anything else, I feel so liable for each and every one of them, even though there's times where there's nothing I can do."

"I'm sure," he says irritably, somewhat annoyed at my sentimentality. "He's all I have. I wouldn't be alive if not for him, nor would I want to be. It's just not going to happen."

It would almost have seemed sweet, what he'd just told me in such an irritable, offhand way, if not for the ominous attachment that came on the heels of the statement. He doesn't want to live without Phil, doesn't plan on it. As long as that boy is breathing he'll keep going, without him- well, he's not going to let it come to that.

"Oh." I manage to get out, stunned.

"You know it's interesting," he mutters, "It's been so long since someone's been genuinely interested in who I am. Most people see the anger and the tired face and decide that's all there is, that's what they go off of. You seem like you actually...care?"

My heart beats a little bit quicker when he asks this, scarcely believing that he's said it. I'm getting to know him even though he's reluctant, bit by bit, and I feel a surge of warmth towards him at this minute expression of appreciation.

"I could say the same for you," I answer, raising my eyebrows to assure him I'm telling the truth. "you aren't speaking to me all sweet and formal, the way practically everyone in my life does. And to tell you the truth, I think you're pretty interesting. In a good way. I feel like there's more to you than your face, you know? I'm sure there is."

He chuckles quietly, not sounding humorous but more resigned. "I'm not interesting." He says, a somewhat discouraging statement, there's just so much going on with him. "I think part of the fascination attributes to me just being a shitty person, I don't speak sweetly to anybody. But I can tell that you're a strong willed person. You've lived this long, just like us. I'm not nice to begin with, but I know when someone deserves respect and when they don't. I can differentiate."

He respects me. Just this knowledge alone helps keep me brave enough to keep talking to him. My mind is already racing as I think about how I'll be able to tell Felix that Dan is in fact human after all, and maybe pick on him for being less able to see my independence than an emotionless man I've just met. We'll see.

"How can you call yourself a shitty person?" I ask incredulously, unsure of how anyone could describe themselves so lowly in such a factual way. "You're so brave and loyal and passionate about keeping your friends safe. Do you think Mark cares about us like that? How can you be a bad person when you're a teenager who puts others' lives before his own?"

He turns his head away from me, letting out an annoyed breath. "I'm just not, okay?" he snaps coldly, frowning angrily out at the dark spread of woods below. "I'm not someone anybody wants to keep around. I'm a liability."

He frowns darkly and kicks his legs out just to channel the frustration, gazing out at the tree line where the edge of the white farmhouse's rood is just barely visible.

"You want to know how all those zombies found us in town?" He asks. "It's because I found a piano in one of the houses. A goddamn_ piano_. I used to play all the time when I was younger and I got so excited that I had to play it then too. I played Phil's favourite song that I knew on there, _Moonlight Sonata_, and it was as if for one moment something nice was actually existing on this hell of an earth. Maybe I didn't have to feel so bad about enjoying the little things in life you know, because it was such a nice distraction and Phil looked like I'd handed him the damn stars or something. Cut to a few minutes later, we open the front door and the porch is overrun with zombies. It was all my fault. I try not to let myself get too happy, I don't think I'm allowed to. Every time I do, shit like that happens. So no more."

My eyes widen in shock at this revelation. Suddenly all of Mark and Felix's suspicions about them staking out our camp to take us out and steal our things seems so incredibly ridiculous.

I feel a deep wave of shame as I remember how Mark had shouted these thoughts so boldly at them all, blaming the near death of both our parties on Dan. It must be eating away at Dan horribly right now, his self esteem already so low, the last thing he needed was to be told he was only a danger to his friends and if they died it would be his fault. No wonder he hates us- he has every right to. I want to tell him he's wrong, explain to him that Phil's prolonged stares and Cat's protectiveness over them proves that they love him and need him.

My resolve hardens and suddenly I'm determined, placing a hand on his shoulder so abruptly he jumps, jerking away from my touch to deter me. I look right at him, no longer feeling intimidated by his flat stare.

"Never let some asshole or any amount of stupid words stop you from letting yourself feel happy." I say forcefully, making his eyes widen in shock. "Maybe it doesn't mean much to you, but I can think of one person off the top of my head who thinks extremely highly of you. I know you must feel like your friends only keep you around out of pity, don't you?" I ask him, and he nods fiercely, not even attempting a smile.

"Yes." he says stubbornly. "I do."

"No!" I say loudly, and he looks incredulous, wondering where my quiet voice went, probably. I don't even care if I wake up Felix, it can always be explained to him later. Meanwhile, I'm going to let Dan know he's worth something, if only to see him allow himself to feel again.

"I don't know if I should really be saying this," I continue hurriedly, the words rushing from my mouth with an urgency, "But I just- you should see the way Phil looks at you! Every time you're stressed or distracted he's looking at you. He doesn't care about anything else. You mean the world to him, even I see it and Felix was telling me that too. You look inseparable, I'll bet you anything he feels that way, and if someone like him thinks of you that highly then maybe you should be thinking it too."

He shakes his head. "Okay, but I-"

"I can promise you one thing, he doesn't think you're a liability." I cut in. I don't venture any further, knowing it's a bit of a heavy sentence and I don't want to voice any other implications. I don't care what they are to each other all of a sudden. Who cares? Is it really any of my business?

"Phil..." he says slowly, quietly, but the fire is gone from his words, he mostly just seems a bit stunned. ".. he always sees the best in people. He couldn't make an enemy if he tried. he's too nice. It doesn't make me any more special."

"But it does!" I insist, throwing my hands up to emphasize my point. "Because it's not just him. I see it too. I'm learning pretty quickly that seeing the best in people teaches you a lot about them, and just because that's what he chooses to see, it doesn't change the fact that it's still a part of who you are. Are you saying that you don't think Phil knows what how to make a proper judgement?" I ask, and he gapes a little as the realization hits him.

"No, I- of course I trust his judgement! I just... does he really look at me that often?" his voice is completely soft now, and I wonder wildly if he's really been this oblivious the whole time. It's adorable, kind of. He sounds so softened by the idea of being seen by Phil.

"Yes, Dan." I confirm with a light laugh, perplexed by the expression on his face. Is he surprised? Delighted? Uncomfortable? I honestly can't tell, fully appreciating just how good he is at concealing his emotions.

"He's such a mum," he says dazedly, but there's no hiding the definite note of affection in his words now. He shakes his head abruptly, snapping it to the side to clear it as if hes just been hit with a bucket of water. How did Phil do it? What is it about him that got through when no one else did?

We sit in sated silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts before our eyes meet and we realize we've gone silent.  
  
"What about you, Marzia?" he asks suddenly, changing the subject. "What makes you happy? Surely there's hobbies you had and stuff like that, before the apocalypse, especially if you lived in Brighton. What do you like to do when you're not capturing people? And don't say wearing pastels, I'll know you're lying."

I laugh at the sudden interest, pleasantly surprised also that he's just made a joke. This is such a huge step forward from an hour ago, when he'd been too angry to even break the silence. I'm seeing the real side of Dan, despite his reluctance. This is the one Phil loves, and on a minute degree it's starting to make sense.

"I know I don't look it," I answer with a grin, "but I'm actually a huge internet nerd. Or at least, you know, I was."

He nods approvingly and stares, waiting for me to go on.

"It's like there's two sides to me, this girly side that loves the idea of nice clothes and perfect makeup, trips into cute cafes and bakeries and long nights watching romantic comedies and stuff. But then there's this other side, the one that's obsessed with being expressive online and loves axolotls and is fascinated by the night sky. If there's one good thing that's come out of life on the run, it's that I always get to sleep under the stars. There were lots of shops and good bakeries in Brighton, but more often than not you could never see stars. They're incredible out here, very good for whiling away a particularly quiet watch. Oh, and of course I love Felix. I'm so glad we met, I've been so much happier since I've had him. Makes life worth living."

"I... well, I have to admit, for a lot of that, I feel like I can relate to what you're talking about. I had no idea you were so complex." He admits, and I let out a huff of laughter, nudging him in a friendly way.

"Well, I happen to know that _you_ are, so that makes one of us." I joke, and this time he half-smiles, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek that I've never noticed before.

Then suddenly we're talking, on and on, totally comfortable where before it was awkward and that's all. And as I come to know Dan, I realize how very little any of us knew at all.

His name is Daniel James Howell and he's six feet tall, afraid of moths and the dark and a strong non-believer in the supernatural. Unless, of course it comes to zombies. We all know where we stand on that, they're more common than people now. He has a strong affinity for the colour black and he used to go to Manchester United University, before the world ended and they just never went back. I learn that we both like dumb indie games and think there's so much more to the night sky than the moon and the stars, and that we're all so insignificant in an infinite universe. I learn that he wasn't very likeable in his childhood either, his internet friend Phil the first best friend he'd ever had in his life, after eighteen years without one. I learn that he loves to be hugged, but hates seeking or accepting affection from people.

"Most people would have to pry that admittance out of my cold, dead fingers." He tells me in reference to the latter fact. I just shake my head.

I learn that he and Phil both love dogs and that they were in a car crash together, wrecking Phil's only mode of transportation when they struck a zombie. Cat, despite her name, isn't that fond of cats. And lots of other facts, the information and topics varying depending on what topic we're on. He doesn't ever talk at length about himself, I just take key information from the short responses he gives me. He likes deep conversations and talking about his friends, doesn't like to discuss relationships.

I was right, he _is_ fascinating. He's brilliant; imaginative and creative, highly intelligent with an articulate vocabulary. I find that I can't stop talking to him, telling him things about myself that nobody but Felix has ever bothered to listen to. And what's more is that he listens, responding with parts of himself or with a considerate comment. Hours fly by and I realize suddenly that we're almost done our shift, and the gate to the camp has swished open.

"Who's that?!" Dan asks quietly, looking unnerved at the prospect of a trespasser. I place a hand on my gun and crawl carefully over to the the other side of the platform, my hand resting firmly on the ladder. The figure of a man is making his way in, shutting the gate carefully and quietly, much more cautiously than the way he'd opened it. I strain to see any defining details in the darkness, wondering if I should shoot him.

The man steps his way over twigs and patches of grass, heading toward the rock cliff without waking anybody. He makes his way out from beneath the tree canopy and I finally catch a glimpse of physical features; a flash of red and black hair, making me relax visibly. But then I almost immediately re-tense, realizing this won't be pleasant for Dan.

"It's Mark," I say quietly, looking back at him to see what he'll do to react to this. "He's back."

He just sighs, looking tired, and lets out a quiet "ah."

"He's probably coming up to join me on watch, it's our night after all. I can tell him we're good if you want. I don't want you to have to deal with him."

He shakes his head quickly, knowing as well as I do that Mark would not handle it well if he realized he was being rejected from his duty to be replaced by Dan. But I've only just gotten to know him, and I'm worried I'll never get another one-on-one opportunity with Dan after this. It's nice, getting to talk to him at such length and so in-depth, I don't want it to be over.

"Nah, I'll just go to bed." he says quickly. "I'm not gonna get in between Mark and his obligations, especially when he's coming back after needing to calm down from a mood that I put him in. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He turns around quickly and starts to make his way towards the ladder, when one last idea crosses my mind and I call out hurriedly before he can scurry away.

"Dan!"

He freezes, turning his head slowly as his hand closes on the object. "Yeah?"

"Thanks, you know. For talking. And listening to me." I say, and he just stares, surprised. "You're all right, you know that? This was good. Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow."

He's quiet for a second, and he looks away, breaking the eye contact. "Remember," he says irritably, his voice low and serious. "We _aren't_ friends. Just so you know. Not friends."

My heart sinks and I can't hide the frown that spreads across my face, disappointed after thinking I'd actually felt closer to him. He starts to climb out onto the ladder, his face looking down at where he's stepping. Then he snaps his head back up and grins at me, a real, actual smile with just a shade of teasing and I gasp. He looks so beautiful when he smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly and his teeth visible. Friendliness suits him better than I ever would have imagined.

He laughs loudly, causing me to snort too, hardly believing it's real.

"I hate you!" I exclaim, and he raises eyebrows, a cheeky expression very evident.

"Or maybe we are." he quips, smirking. "You'll never know. See you later, Marzia. Thanks for making me remember a bunch of repressed memories, it wasn't too bad."

Then he's gone from view, and I'm alone on the platform, with just the wind whistling and waving the leaves of the trees and the moon glowing a pale yellow overhead.

I sigh, still in disbelief that these last few hours actually happened. A few minutes pass and then Mark clambers his way up, greeting me with a grumpy flick of his hand and settling several feet away, clearly not quite out of the mood he was in before. I take a deep breath and look out at the valley, seeing Dan out of the corner of my eye lifting the branches of the willow and ducking under to where his bed is waiting.

The rest of the night awaits and I wonder if maybe I'll ask Mark if he maybe can't give Dan a second chance. We have lots of time, and I suddenly feel like there's a lot I'm capable of doing. All my friend wants right now is silence and I respect that, my mind buzzing enough for both of us.

So I don't say anything yet, I just look up at the stars and wonder if I'll ever see them the same way again. Now that I know someone else shares my fascination. You just never know with people, the ones who seem so broken and quiet have the loudest minds and most sensitive souls. The ones who seem so pretty have the saddest stories. Dan didn't seem like someone I would want to be friends with when I watched him this morning, but now that I know why he seems so bitter I want to tell everyone the truth because he's so much more than the person that no one will give a chance.

I want him to be able to show appreciation, I want him to tell long articulate stories about the deep meaning he finds in the most mundane of things. I realize there's only one other person besides me that sees him for what he is, who knows he's capable of love and possesses no shortage of passions. _I think I'd like to talk to Phil, _I think. _He'd know exactly what I'm talking about._

Who better to get to know Dan with, than with the one person who knows him best. I keep this in mind as the night wears on and the moon starts to sink in the sky, smiling to myself even though it's too dark for anyone to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! (cozydnp)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like it's worth mentioning that the full version of this fic is available to read on Wattpad (I'm also writtennotsung there), however the ao3 version is my 2019/2020 rewrite of the original. This fic was my baby for a year and a half and I've come back to it to remaster the writing. I am a huge perfectionist with a lot of quality standards when it comes to writing and fic so this updated version is going to be much, much better. I promise it's worth the wait. Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr! @cozydnp


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